Heart Like a Wildflower
by ThyBirdofHermesIsMyName
Summary: Tessa Newell fell in with the Seven to do a job. She didn't anticipate what that job would cost her. When the dust settles, she's still alive, but she's walking wounded. When they ask her to go with them, she does. It's not like she has anyone left to go to now. Slowly, they draw her back into the world of the living. Vasquez/OC. **SPOILERS IN REVIEWS**
1. Newell's Make Three

Hello Hello! Hermes here. I just want to lay down some facts for you before you get started on this chapter. This is a work of fanfiction. I don't own the Magnificent Seven (though that would be nice) or any of its characters! I do own _my_ characters.

The title is actually a variant of the title of a Poem by the esteemed Nikita Gill.

Please be gentle with me in this story, this is my first story in a long time, and one of the few instances where I've written POC in any way, shape or form. I'll do my best to do them and their perspectives justice, but I'm super white, so I might fail. Any advice on that end is very much appreciated!

And finally, if you're reading this, let me know how I can improve. I'm always up for some constructive criticism.

* * *

 _I hope you are blessed with a heart like a wildflower._

 _Strong enough to rise again after being trampled upon,_

 _tough enough to weather the worst of the summer storms,_

 _and able to grow and flourish even in the most broken places._

-Hearts Like Wildflowers, Hearts Like Yours

Nikita Gill

"Excuse me, would you be Ms. Tessa Newell?"

Tessa blinked in surprise, just once and tipped her hat back to get a clear look at the man addressing her. She'd known exactly when he'd set foot on the boardinghouse porch of course. It had become a habit to not let her guard down in towns, especially when she was alone. So when he'd made his way over to her, she braced herself for some comment on the thickness of her book (or her wearing pants). She had not expected to be addressed by name.

"May I ask who wants to know?" she returned, shutting her book a little regretfully.

"My name is Sam Chisolm, duly sworn warrant officer in Kansas and six other states, and I have a business propistion for you, if you'd care to hear it." He didn't hold out his hand to shake. But that was to be expected, given his color. The west might not care as much as the South if you were colored, but they sure seemed to care when a black man and a white woman interacted.

Tessa nodded slowly and gestured for him to continue, watching him with calculating grey eyes.

"I've been hired by Mrs. Cullen to rid the town of Rose Creek of a low down murdering scum named Bartholomew Bogue." He gestured to a slender, pale woman on a sorrel mare several feet away from the porch. "I'm assembling a team of men to do just that."

"I'm not a man." Tessa pointed out blithely, giving Mrs. Cullen and her nervous looking friend a lazy salute.

"No," Chisolm agreed just as bland. "But you and your brothers have made a bit of a name for yourselves. I hear you have a head for strategy."

"That's an interesting way of putting it." Tessa snorted and rolled to her feet. "Tell me Mr. Chisolm, duly sworn warrant officer in seven states. How'd you hear about us, and who told you my name? I make a point of not giving out my given name to too many people."

There was a smile on her face, but she didn't let it reach her eyes. This Chisolm fellow didn't seem like a bad man, but then again, many of them didn't. She could think of maybe a handful of people she'd told her first name to.

For his part he bore her scrutiny with a placid calm that she nearly envied. It was much better than hers, but then he'd probably had a lot more practice. "I passed through a small town name of Bedrock in Nebraska six months ago. Heard about that business with the Turning's gang." He tipped his chin, a faint gesture that seemed to carry a lot of weight. "That was a handy trick for three people to pull off, especially when one of them is a woman."

The backhanded compliment made her twitch, but she let it pass. Some things happened too often to argue every time they came up. She'd long grown used to her brothers getting credited for her ideas. "And Miss Hattie Braum had a lot to say about you," he added as if only just recalling.

Tessa felt the tension she hadn't realized she'd been carrying ease out of her shoulders. Hattie Braum's name was as good as gold in her book. "And how is the good Miss Hattie?" she asked fondly.

The first hint of smile touched the corner of Chisolm's mouth. "She's as fiery as ever." The smile vanished. "Think you could stand to hear a few details about this job now?"

"I suppose I could," Tessa smirked unrepentantly.

Chisolm dipped his head, either ignoring or unaware of her sass. "Bogue is a man with a lot of money and power. He wants the people of Rose Creek gone."

"Why is he fixated on Rose Creek?" Tessa tapped her book thoughtfully on her leg.

"Gold mine." Chisolm explained. "He owns it, but he wants the town, down to the nails and boards. Doesn't seem to care too much if people want to sell or no. His agents have murdered more than a few people, Mrs. Cullen's husband included, for refusing to move."

Part of her wanted to ask why not go? But she knew the answer. The west was first generation, grassroots efforts. People who came out west left everything behind and it was very much do or die. Some got lucky, some didn't. Regardless, you didn't just leave the land you toiled for. She eyed Mrs. Cullen who returned the study dispassionately. She didn't look pleased with Tessa, but that wasn't anything new.

"How many men do you have?"

"Me, one other. Three more if you and your brothers agree." Chisolm responded promptly, no hint of coercion in his tone.

"It sounds like suicide." Tessa pointed out, but she knew where she was leaning in that moment.

Chisolm nodded slowly and scrubbed a hand on his chin as if gathering the words he wanted. "Everyone dies." he offered eventually.

Tessa stared. She laughed. She liked this man.

The first step was to see her brothers. Nick and Joe had bee-lined for the saloon as soon as they'd hit town, but that was no surprise. They needed to unwind after hunting down that fool Harper man. Three weeks in the bush would do any man a turn. Tessa shook her head to clear it, mind already ticking over the things they'd need-but that was getting ahead of herself. If Nick and Joe didn't want to go, then they wouldn't. Chisolm hadn't seemed concerned about that little fact when she'd told him so. Maybe he assumed they'd be as on board as Tessa already was.

The smell of the saloon hit her before Tessa clapped eyes on her wayward little brothers, a thick haze of alcohol fumes and cigar smoke. It wasn't pleasant, a thick snarl of taste of the back of her tongue. The boys would smell of it for days after...Tessa paused on the top step as the copper-sweet scent of blood slid across the back of her throat. Slate grey eyes narrowed as she studied the windows, the stretch of floor she could see beyond the swinging doors.

One hand drifted to the gun on her left hip and she calmly stepped inside.

It wasn't like the movies. No one spared her a glance. There were other things to worry about. As soon as she'd assured herself her brothers were fine Tessa indulged in an incredulous study of the bar. Bullet holes, broken glass, splashed whiskey (that accounted for the powerful smell at the very least) and splash of blood on the floor from some unlucky bystander painted a very strange picture. She tipped her chin to a bemused looking man who looked to be new at the whole bartending business and made her way to her brothers.

Nick and Joe sat with the air of men who'd seen violence and weren't too bothered by its aftereffects. It was the beards, she decided. It made them both look much older than their mid-twenties ages. Joe still had that unwrinkled sweetness around his tawny eyes, though, if one looked beyond the mountain-man scruff.

"Tessie," Nick saluted her with some brown substance. It must not have tasted very good, because he looked faintly sour about the whole thing.

"Nicky," she returned sweetly, eyeing a chair dubiously before sinking into it. "What went on here?"

"Must have been an exciting book if you didn't hear the noise of murder." Joe snorted, nursing his own brown substance.

Tessa's sooty lashes fanned wide in surprise, under one sardonically curved brow. "I missed a murder?"

"A bounty killing." Nick cut in.

Ah, that accounted for his sour-milk face. Tessa felt a little sour herself. "Who? Who did we miss?"

"Man by the name of Powder Dan." Joe replied cheerfully. He ignored his siblings glares. "Some black guy strolled on in and took out half the saloon. We covered him of course. Well, us and some tall ginger."

Tessa blinked. "Some black man-"

"I can't believe we missed a bounty. We had the warrant!" Nick muttered bitterly into his empty glass.

"It wasn't that much money anyway," Joe consoled his brother.

Tessa sank back in her chair torn between amusement and annoyance. No wonder Chisolm hadn't seemed too concerned about her brothers agreeing; if anything, he was concerned about _her_ agreeing. And he'd neglected to mention he talked to them first. She tapped her chin while her brothers argued. Why he hadn't said anything was suspect. He'd mentioned Hattie Braum, even though he'd talked to her siblings. A name drop which accomplished something-he'd won her over without too much effort. A smile curved her lips.

"He's entirely too smart for his own good." Tessa mused aloud. Then, louder: "What do you say boys? Shall we go fight tyranny and win the day?"

"Might as well." Joe nodded, eyes warm and molten gold with his smile.

"No one uses the word shall anymore." Nick informed her, which was as good an agreement as they'd get out of him while he was grumpy.

Tessa shared an amused glance with the youngest Newell sibling and pushed to her feet. "Let's go then. I want to leave in the next half hour. Let Chisolm know will you Joe? He's over by the boardinghouse still, I should think."


	2. Them As Can Do

Hello! Hermes here. As always, I only own my OC's (and Scratch.)

Okay, so the first chapter was a tad rough, but Dalonega Noquisi seemed to like it! Many thanks to my first reviewer. I'm sorry this took so long to update, but I'm still not satisfied with the first chapter. The second one is ironing out a bit of the kinks, stretching new muscles and so on. I hope people can get past it! Chapter title is taken from Terry Pratchett's The Wee Free Men and you'll find Tessa quoting those witches quite a bit. But due diligence, I will always tell who and where I got the quote from, if it isn't mine.

That being said, ON WITH THE SHOW! And let me know what you think! :)

* * *

 _"Them as can do has to do for them as can't._

 _And someone has to speak up for them as has no voices."_

 _-Terry Pratchett,_ _The Wee Free Men_

The makeshift stable was empty enough that Tessa felt she could freely discuss the days events with Scratch, her mule, and not be ridiculed. The scarred and angry animal was a good listener, when he wasn't pouring water in her boots. Her long black braid fell over her shoulder as she leaned over and tightened the saddle girth once he bothered to let out the breath he was holding.

"Eventually you will stop doing that." she informed him, flipping aforementioned braid back into position. Scratch didn't dignify that with a response, gnawing half heartedly at the remains of the oats in his nosebag (muzzle).

"Degenerate," she murmured affectionately, and checked the straps on her saddle bags.

"Tess."

Tessa glanced up from her work and cocked a questioning eyebrow to Joe lolling in the doorway. "Chisolm's in the boarding house, he wants to talk to us before we get going anywhere."

"Ah." Tessa patted Scratch's broad forehead and led the crotchety animal out into the sunlight.

"...Do you think we're doing the right thing?" she asked after a few paces. "The probability of us _surviving_ this is...well low."

Joe cast a long glance at her and flipped the ever present piece of silver he always had on him. The metal chimed and flashed twice before he answered, as they made their way to the boarding house Nick had just checked them out of.

"I don't know. I think so," he said finally. He easily dodged a stray hoof from Scratch as Tessa tied him to the hitching post. "It's like...if we do nothing, aren't we just saying it's alright? How do you always put it?"

"By our silence we give our agreement," Tessa offered.

"That's the one," Joe flipped the coin again. Paused. "I mean we could go and find another bounty. Got word of a vaquero running from the law, we could go hunting and no one would blame us. Hell, out here, it's every man for themselves. No one _expects_ us to go play hero."

The thought didn't sit right with her and Tessa frowned. "I would blame us."

Her lion colored brother grinned sweet-and-easy, "I know. I wouldn't feel too right about it myself you know?" he admitted. "I talked a bit to Teddy Q, that's the man Mrs. Cullen is traveling with, and he told me all about the situation. It's a regular dominance play by a man far too used to getting his way. I mean, he offered farmers _twenty dollars_ per land deed! The man is a snake. It just," the coin flashed once. "Don't seem right to leave them like that."

She couldn't stop herself from grinning at the scowl on Joe's face. Her rough and tough little brother might not like to admit it, but he was very much a romantic. "All right Don Quixote we're going." she teased. " I never said anything about leaving them to it. As I like to say, "Them as can do-"

"-must do for them as cannot" I know, I know," Joe rolled his eyes and playfully offered his arm to her as they walked up the boardinghouse steps.

Tessa socked him in the ribs for his cheek. He guffawed loud enough to startle Mrs. Cullen and Teddy Q as they walked into the front room. Nick shook his head from his seat but kept his peace, by now used to their antics (as if he didn't join in on occasion Tessa thought spitefully), but Mrs. Cullen didn't look too pleased. She did hold her tongue.

Teddy Q did not.

"Kind of you to join us Mr. and Mrs. Newell." he muttered, just shy of actually confronting them.

Tessa's eyebrows hiked towards her scalp and she traded an amused glance with Nick; Joe did not restrain himself to that. He snorted and started giggling like a child.

"Now, Mr. Newell," Tessa began severely, causing Nick to erupt in a series of painful sounding coughes. "And you too _Mr. Newell_ , kindly show some decorum. We've got business to settle."

Teddy Q looked plainly confused while a thoughtful frown crossed Mrs. Cullen's pale brow. Chisolm restrained himself to merely glancing up at the ceiling as if the rough boards held the answers he needed. Ignoring her ridiculous kinfolk the short woman glanced down at the rough map on the table.

"I take it this is your town Mrs. Cullen?"

"Yes." Whatever the woman felt for her personally was put aside as she got down to business. "As I was explaining to Mr. Chisolm, here is the mine Bogue owns, and here's the town." She pointed out the features. "The only way in is over here, through the valley floor, and the road in and out is to the west."

"Is there only one road in and out?"

"Yes." Mrs. Cullen affirmed.

"You're sure?" Tessa pinned her with a gimlet eye. "No game trails, no back ways for bootleggers? No way for someone to sneak up on us?"

An expression of almost comical distaste came on her face and Mrs. Cullen's chin jutted forward sharply. "We are not those sort of people, Mrs. Newell."

"It's _Ms_. Newell, Mrs. Cullen, and I can assure you, there's always one or two who circumvent the law." Tessa dryly corrected. She arched an eyebrow, looking between the two farmers. "Well?"

"There's one or two game trails," Teddy Q offered, almost shyly, after a moment. He looked apologetic, though to which woman Tessa couldn't begin to guess. "But it's tough terrain for a small group on foot, let alone the army Bogue is bringing."

Rocking back on her heels, Tessa mulled that over. "Where's he coming from?"

"Sacramento," Mrs. Cullen offered stiffly.

"If he's as rich as you've made him out to be then he has a lot of hired gun yes?"

"Blackstone agents," Chisolm cut in. "A lot of them if what Mrs. Cullen says is correct."

Tessa nodded thoughtfully. "Has he left men in the town?"

"The sherriffs on his payroll," offered Teddy Q darkly. "And he always leaves a few Blackstone agents to enforce things."

There was a slight emphasis placed on his words that Tessa didn't miss. There was little doubt what kinds of things these Blackstone agents enforced. But she let it pass, unwilling to give up her train of thought as she traced the large blank spaces of the valley floor. "What's this land used for?"

Mrs. Cullen and Teddy Q exchanged a puzzled glance over her bent head, while Chisolm looked on thoughtfully. "It's the towns land. No one farms it. It's to built on one day, when the town is a bit bigger," said Teddy Q.

Tessa tapped the map once and glanced from Joe to Chisolm. "Are we heading directly to Rose Creek?"

"No. Got a few more men in mind I want to ask to join." Chisolm explained, looking almost curious.

"And when is Bogue coming back for you?" she inquired of the two townsfolk.

"Three weeks. But Ms. Newell I don't-"

The small woman raised an imperious hand and Teddy Q came to a sputtering halt. She ignored Nick's scoff from the corner. "Send Joe to Rose Creek." she told Chisolm. "He can get the lay of the land and find out pertinent information that could prove useful to us."

"I can, can I?" Joe drawled, but his eyes were dancing.

"Yes you can." Tessa told him sharply, then to Chisolm, "He can."

"Is there something wrong with our information Ms. Newell?" demanded a stiff backed Mrs. Cullen.

"No of course not." Tessa said impatiently. "The information you have is invaluable. But Joe can...how did that preacher put it Joe? "Charm the fangs off a rattlesnake" I want information on Bogue's inner workings. If Joe can fleece these agents while the rest of us gather some extra guns, so much the better."

"I believe Mr. Chisolm is the one we hired to oversee this undertaking." Mrs. Cullen said firmly, eyes cold and dangerous. Tessa amended her impression of the woman, and smiled. The expression caught her off guard to say the least.

"He did." she agreed and they both turned to the warrant officer.

"It's a good plan," he said after a moment of scrubbing at his beard. "Do you think you can do what your sister thinks you can?"

Joe spread his hands and shrugged. "It's what I do," he said modestly. "Everyone takes offense to a woman walking around and asking questions, and Nick here," said man swatted at the hand Joe attempted to place on his shoulder, "is grumpy curmudgeon on the best of days. I can get in and out with the necessary information."

"You shouldn't go alone-"

"I'm not leaving Ms. Emma," declared Teddy Q firmly.

"Well, no." Tessa and Joe agreed immediately.

"I'll have to go. We know how to work together." Nick rose to his feet and then addressed Tessa, "Standard layout and supply list?"

"Of course."

Chisolm shook his head in bemusement. "I'm glad that's settled then,"

"But where does that leave you?" Mrs. Cullen asked the other woman.

"I'll be watching Mr. Chisolm's back. If you can stand to have a woman at it." she lifted her chin challengingly. The man smiled ever so slightly.

"I think I can manage."

"Good," Tessa nodded firmly. "Now where's this other fellow you mentioned?"

* * *

When Tessa saw the man Chisolm had in mind she wondered very seriously about the man's decision making process. No sooner had Teddy (she wasn't going to call the man Mr. Q, that was a tad ridiculous) and Mrs. Cullen given Nick and Joe their heading, than Chisolm was informing them he'd found the third of their merry band. And what a strange fellow he was. They'd had one, very brief altercation, but Tessa would bet her mother's necklace the man didn't remember it. He'd been roaring drunk early that very morning.

She wondered idly how he was standing on his own two feet and trying to bargain with a midget of all things. It must have been because he was simply enormous, Tessa decided. He would be a height with Nick if they ever met.

"-standoff except we've got an Irishman and a Baptist, and I'm not sure how that ends." he was saying, entirely too coherent for the amount of alcohol he must have had in his system.

"With you walking away without your horse," rejoined the tiny, smug, Irishman. Tessa watched in rapt fascination as Scratch's long ears flicked towards the angry stallion in the paddock.

She missed the words that led to them fingering their guns, but it was impossible to miss Sam Chisolm sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Her eyebrows were probably going to stay permanently sky high around the man, she decided, as he bought the angry stallion and the saddle, and summarily dragged the man into service.

He didn't come all that unwillingly to be fair. He weighed the bag of money Mrs. Cullen threw to him, tossed it back, and slid his eyes over all of them in an economic fashion. "Who are these?"

"My name is Emma Cullen and this is my associate Teddy Q," she nodded to Tessa. "This here is Ms. Tessa Newell."

The man looked at his horse. Or would it be Chisolm's horse? "Is it difficult?"

"Impossible." Well at least Chisolm didn't mince words. Tessa could respect that, being unwilling to mince words herself.

"How many you got?"

"Five." Tessa snorted softly, seeing where this was going.

"I believe your count is off my mysterious friend." The man flashed what he probably thought to be a charming grin.

"No," Chisolm disagreed, mild as you please. "Ms. Newell, her two brothers, and you and me."

A surge of admiration for the mans audacity threatened to make her laugh, and it looked like their newest associate was having the same struggle as Tessa. The grin on his face was probably the first sincere expression she'd seen since their first brief (and painful) meeting. Which said a lot of interesting things about him.

* * *

He came with them of course. He liked his horse very much, apparently.

They rode out towards the foothills of the mountains, and Tessa quickly came to wish he hadn't.

He rode next to Mrs. Cullen at first. "Doesn't seem too chivalrous to send a woman to gather guns."

"I volunteered," retorted the regal woman. "Insisted actually." Tessa smiled down at Scratch's rough mane. She was liking the other woman more and more.

Hoofbeats on her left had her expression smoothing into a blank look as he came to try his charm on her. To her surprise he didn't say anything for a long moment, and Tessa glanced up to find him studying her hard.

"Can I help you Mr…"

"Oh where are my manners?" his look eased into something between automatic leer and charming grin, and touched the tip of his hat. "Joshua Faraday milady, at your service, and might I say, you look mighty familiar. Have we met before?"

"Oh yes." Tessa fought down a grin.

"We have? I mean- how could I forget such a pretty face! Mind refreshing my memory darling?"

"You were very drunk," Tessa supplied helpfully, ignoring the "darling" comment. For now. "I'm surprised you can stand. At any rate, I can imagine that even if you forgot my face Mr. Faraday, your wrist still hurts a bit."

Whatever he was going to say got lost on the way out as he boggled at her and shifted mindlessly to touch the wrist she'd twisted sharply not six hours ago.

"I hope that wasn't your gun hand _darling_." She smiled her sweetest smile. "I'd hate for you to get killed because you mistook an honest woman for a painted lady while you were drunk off your mind."

He drew back in his saddle ever so slightly and then clicked his tongue, urging his horse forward. It was just as well really. Scratch was plainly eyeing the handsome bay stallion in a less than friendly way. As soon as he'd gone, Mrs. Cullen rode into the place he'd left. Tessa preemptively tightened her grip on the reins, in case Scratch got any ideas. Her palomino was pretty, but Scratch was a hell-beast, and often angry, purely on principle.

"Mrs. Cullen." she offered peacably after a few paces.

"I think given the circumstances, you can call me Emma." The red head smiled a tad ruefully. "I believe I let my assumptions get further than my facts, Ms. Newell. I'd like to apologize."

Tessa didn't ask what assumptions. It wouldn't do her any good to know. But it was nice to know Emma wasn't a rigid, self righteous woman. She was stressed and grieving of course, but she seemed fair, she thought. "I'm used to it." Tessa continued aloud. "It doesn't bother me as much as it used to."

"And...have you been a bounty hunter long?" Emma asked tentatively.

"Three years. Started when I was 25." Scratch's ears flicked back and she firmly guided his head away from Emma's mare. "It makes decent money."

"I've never heard of women being bounty hunters," Emma eyed her a little dubiously, from the tips of her broken in boots, to the white scars on her tanned knuckles. Tessa fought not to curl her hands in on themselves under the weight of the other's scruntiny. She hadn't always been so smart about how she hit people. The other womans pale knuckles had no scars. But they probably had callouses, she consoled herself, and shook the thoughts from her head.

"Of course not. Men don't like it when a woman brings in a man they've hunted. My brothers usually get the credit, even if I come up with the plans." she explained. Comprehension dawned on Emma's face.

"So you won't be fighting then." Tessa wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

"No, I will." She grinned at the other. "I never make a plan asking someone else to do what I'm not willing to do Emma. It isn't right, for one, and I'm a decent shot for another."

They eyed one another for the space of five hoofbeats and Emma tipped her head approvingly. "That's a worthy way of looking at things."

They nodded at one another, now that they had an understanding and continued in companionable silence.

"And you can call me Tess or Tessa. We might be heading to our deaths, I think we can stand to be familiar with one another." That drew a laugh, however slight, from Emma.


	3. Meeting the Outlaw

Hello my friends! Tis I, Hermes!

If you're getting frustrated with the slow pace of the story, please rest assured, I am equally frustrated! Tessa is a methodical person, and since the story will probably take place entirely from her point of view, I wanted to do her first meeting with someone as dangerous as Vasquez justice.

Additionally, getting his speech patterns down is hard. Bear with me. He speaks good English in the movie, but his syntax is a little strange, which probably means he learned English after he was really small, which is prime language time. Anyway, I'm working on it. I promise the story will pick up soon! Let me know what you think of their interaction. I'm heavily leaning towards Vas as potential love interest. They are definitely interested in one another, that's for certain.

Now, on with the show!

* * *

 _Living off the grid and being_

 _kind of an outlaw_

 _brings a dangerous reality._

Ron Perlman

They were to meet outside of Junction City in three days. While Faraday and Teddy went to Volcano Springs (Tessa had yet to understand how they came up with the name since she doubted very much any of its residents had ever been near a volcano), Emma, Tessa and Chisolm headed into the mountains in search of a man Tessa suspected would have been the next Newell bounty. Teddy didn't look happy with leaving Emma, but he wasn't as upset as he might have been if Tessa hadn't been there. The younger man went without complaint in search of Chisolm's famous friend.

She didn't miss the statement Chisolm made, (half in jest, but half seriously) about not making to to the meeting point. His eyes touched hers for a brief moment and Tessa nodded, tapping the worn grip of her gun in understanding.

There was no chance to ask Chisolm precisely who they were in search of, since he set a brisk pace as soon as their group split. Scratch was happy to canter a bit, which kept him out of any mean mischief. They made good time and came to the foothills in a matter of a few hours. Plains gave way to thick trees, and Chisolm led them right to a small decrepit cabin in what might have been called a clearing by a more generous person than Tessa.

It was a rough place, poorly put together. Exactly the kind of out of the way place an outlaw might find himself in while on the run. She paused and left Scratch's reings dangling as she surveyed the property. The painted horse tied to the porch railing was well cared for, and disinterested in their arrival. She didn't see it's rider, and she didn't miss Chisolm's meaningful glance as he left his gun belt on his saddle horn.

Tessa eyed him incredulously. This was yet another incident where she doubted the mans sanity. Clearly he was taking her offer to watch his back for its full worth. Ears pricked for the slightest sound, Tessa waited on the porch while Emma and Chisolm went cautiously inside. The pick-buzz whine of flies permeated the silence and the unmistakable stench of death followed. Taking shallow breaths, Tessa turned her back on the darkened doorway and kept watch.

Or tried to. Emma's frightened gasp and hurried steps had her turning sharply, gun jerked from its holster to address the danger. Just as sharply she shook her head. Emma had seen the dead thing. From her expression it had been a person once.

"Emma it's alright-" she began to comfort her, and then the air hissed.

There was the briefest flicker in the air to her right, the only warning she had, just enough to lash an arm around the woman's slender waist and haul her bodily out of the way of the incoming object. _Lasso_ , the distant part of her mind dismissed cooly, even as she drew her gun up to bear on the outlaw swiftly. _Pistol_ , that same voice supplied, as they eyed one another. Tessa didn't flinch, left hand thrown back protectively. There was the distinct sound of another gun cocking behind her, and Tessa grinned inwardly but kept her eyes on the outlaw.

His face rang a bell. She definitely had his warrant in her satchel then. It was decent likeness if she recalled correctly. The tension stretched thick between them for a long, unbearable moment. Emma's breath was loud in her ear. He smiled, wolfish. Threatening. "I think you should put the gun down chica, before someone gets hurt."

"You first." Tessa smiled just as wide, flashing her teeth.

"Do as he says."

They both startled (not bad enough for a misfire, but enough to be noticable) when Chisolm spoke. Tessa could have smacked herself for forgetting he was there. Then she could have smacked him, as his words sank in. He met her bewildered look with that same mild gaze he'd given her outside the boarding house, and Tessa's eyes flashed. But she did as he said.

"Give me your guns." the outlaw demanded as she lowered her pistol.

"I will not." Tessa denied flatly, and firmly (angrily) holstered her weapon. Then she folded her arms and glared expectantly at the crazy man who'd gotten her into this situation. Clearly frustrated, and more than a little bewildered (Tessa could sympathize) the outlaw followed suit. At her shoulder. Emma shifted warily.

"He was already dead, if that's what you're wondering." the outlaw offered with a smirk after a tense moment of silence.

"You been sleeping in here?" Chisolm asked, as if he didn't have a gun pointed at his chest.

"He doesn't snore much." shrugged the other.

"You Vasquez?"

"What is this to you?" he snapped, shifting uneasily which as good as told them, that yes, he was. Tessa didn't miss the glance he threw her way and itched to grip her guns.

"If I'm going to tear up a warrant, I just want to be sure I'm talking to the right man." Chisolm stepped calmly into the doorway holding up a wanted poster similar to the one in Tessa's saddlebags.

"A poor likeness," Vasquez scoffed weakly. "You a bounty hunter?"

"She is," Chisolm gestured carelessly in Tessa's direction and she fought not to be offended at the scornful noise the outlaw made. " _I_ am a duly sworn warrant officer."

"And where's your gun?"

"Man carries a gun he tends to use it." Chisolm replied steadily, as if that wasn't the most insane thing anyone else there had ever heard of. Tessa scoffed softly, but Vasquez almost grinned. "Dead ranger by your hand, and a 500$ reward."

"Maybe he had it coming," the outlaw mocked. Tessa rolled her eyes.

"Doesn't matter to me either way," Chisolm replied blandly, hands still raised.

"Why? You two plan to get that reward?" The scorn on his face was plain to see as he glanced from Chisolm to Tessa and she scowled back defiantly.

"Don't tempt me," she snapped lowly. He actually snickered. A hot flush stole up her neck and Tessa just knew her nostrils were flaring something fierce. Chisolm cut in before she could sufficiently gather her wits.

"Before you two get into it any further, I have a business propisition for you."

"And does this business involve her?" Vasquez's smirk was nearly a leer, eyes dragging like a live brand up and down her body, and Tessa, utterly appalled, felt herself flushing hot for an entirely different reason.

True to form, Chisolm manfully ignored the subtext even as the outlaw chuckled darkly at what he saw on her face. "It does."

"And when our business is concluded?"

Emma's hand touched her back, right between the shoulder blades and it was enough to calm her. Tessa drew in a deep breath and pressed her reactions aside, until she could deal with them later. Now was not the time to indulge in...whatever just happened. She staunchly refused to believe anything happened, and refocused.

"There'll still be a lot of men after your hide." Chisolm shrugged.

"And this should give me comfort?"

"It should. I won't be one of them."

The two men stared at each other, Vasquez most likely gauging the veracity of Sam's statement. Then he looked at her, and Tessa somehow managed to steadily return his scrutiny, however mocking. "And you? Will you still be after my hide, chica?"

He managed to turn it into something dirty and Tessa bestowed her most blazing glare, and widest smile upon him. It had scared many a man in her time, and Vasquez's chin jerked, gaze losing some of its heat. "I'm still deciding."

It took a long moment but she held his black gaze until he holstered his gun. "You are loco." he said, though she wasn't sure to whom exactly. Chisolm answered for them anyway, mild expression still in place.

"Si."

* * *

The trip to Junction City was, by comparison, uneventful, if a tad delayed. They had to stay the first night in the clearing, but Emma refused to stay in the cabin with its deceased resident. Vasquez offered to drag the corpse outside (an odd concession given his earlier attitude towards them both), but Tessa took one look at the state of decomposition and sided with Emma. It was more than likely the man would literally come apart at the seams if someone attempted to move him and Tessa wanted no part in it.

"You two enjoy the smell of dead flesh." Tessa clapped Chisolm on the shoulder and gestured for Emma to to follow her. "Can you get a fire going?"

"Yes of cou-"

"Suit yourself senoras! I was going to share my food-"

"Yes, day old beans that flies have been in and out of sounds delicious," Tessa deadpanned. She didn't give him a chance to reply before she turned back to Emma, who didn't bother to hide the venomous glare she aimed at Vasquez. "Don't worry about it. I have some supplies, just get the fire going."

Scratch snorted at her as she dug through her saddle bags, clearly impatient to be out of his tack. Tessa was please to note he'd restricted himself to tearing up patches of turf, rather than attacking his four legged neighbors. She pulled out the bag of beans and the parcel of dried fruit she'd managed to score and turned to give them to Emma so she could take care of the horses, only to abruptly run into Vasquez.

The outlaw managed to look like he was leaning on a wall, for all there was only empty air around him, thumbs hooked casually in his gun belt. At least this time he had the decency to meet her eyes. "Yes?"

"You cook for everyone then chica?" he drawled.

"I'm sorry, I thought you said you had food to spare?" Tessa returned and coolly stepped around him. Chisolm gave her a look as she did, from his spot hunkered down over the fledgling flames. She spotted Emma gathering more firewood a second later.

"Everything alright over there?"

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before." Tessa offered him the food and he took it without complaint, eyeing the dried muscadine and gooseberries appreciatively. She paused, realizing she'd forgotten her pot. Still she hesitated. Chisolm merely waited, coaxing the small fire a little higher.

"Do you trust him?" she asked after a beat.

Chisolm gave her a look so dry she felt her skin blister. "Course not. That being said, he's been on the run for a long time. Killing a ranger is serious business and they've been after him hard. I think he'll stick around for some respite at the very least."

Tessa nodded slowly, more to herself than Chisolm and turned to retrieve her cooking implements. It made sense. Only the very worst of the outlaw crowd dealt well with life on the run, the rest became gradually more and more worn down by the lifestyle, such as it was. It was one of the many reasons they were almost always caught. Few of them made it far enough to escape the wanted posters and warrants before they simply became so rundown they got sloppy.

She looked at Vasquez with fresh eyes. He hadn't moved from where she'd left him, except to back safely out of Scratch's range. (Smart man then.) One thumb remained tucked nonchalantly in his gun belt, but the other hand fingered his pistol grip, a constant tap-tapping as his eyes shifted back and forth, watching the way they'd come in. He was, Tessa realized with a pang of what might have been pity, stretched thin-to-breaking. He didn't look terribly thin, but there was a tell-tale puffiness under his eyes that said he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep recently. She shut her eyes. This was the other reason why Tessa didn't do recon. Call it what you want, but she hated to see people suffer, even if they did deserve it.

"If you're going to eat with us, maybe you could contribute something." she found herself saying. His eyes snapped to hers, startled, and Tessa cursed inwardly but left her face blank.

"You've been here a few days." she continued stoically. "Did you find any plants or things to make beans more palatable?"

He studied her, something like fascination mingling with the confusion on his face. Tessa fought not to blush and tipped her chin expectantly. That seemed to jog him out of his momentary stupor. "There's some salt in the cabin. Not much, but enough for a few meals."

"A few meals is all we need," Tessa fished her pot out of the saddle bags and avoided his gaze. "We're starting if you want to go get some."

Talk was strained and sparse around the campfire, but at least they had salt to make the beans go down a little easier. Emma stuck to her side like a burr, even when she went to give Scratch his nightly rub-down. They hung on the edge of the firelight, near enough to hear the low murmur of conversation that the men struck up as soon as they left. Tessa shook her head; she missed her brothers in times like these.

"Something eating at you Emma?" she asked as she got to work with the brush. Scratch huffed, pleased enough with the attention that he didn't take umbrage with the strange womans proximity.

"I don't trust him," she said quietly, almost a whisper. "If he'd gotten me with that lasso of his…" She trailed off with a shudder. "I don't like to think about it."

"More than likely he would have used you as a bargaining chip with Chisolm," Tessa offered absently as she dug a stubborn burr out of Scratch's hide. "How did you even do this to yourself silly beast?" Silence from Emma prompted her to look up. It was hard to read her expression in the dim light, but she seemed a tad incredulous. Tessa continued defensively; "What? Don't give me that look. If he'd wanted us dead he would have shot us straight away. More than likely he would have left you unharmed."

"You don't know that," Emma protested hotly.

"No I don't," agreed Tessa. "But I do know it's in his best interests to stick with us, and to not harm us right now. He's been on the run for a long time Emma; he needs a break."

There was a blissful beat of silence and Tessa combed Scratch's rough coat in long strokes, just like he liked. Until: "It sounds almost like you pity him." The words were almost accusatory and Tessa bit back her immediate reply. It would do no good to exchange needlessly harsh words now that she and Emma had gained a common ground. After she'd wrestled her ire into submission, Tessa fixed the other with a firm look.

"Firstly, it isn't pity, it's understanding. There's a difference. You can trust a man, or woman for that matter, as far as you can understand them. Right now we're a respite from what looks to have been a pretty rough life, and he's not going to give that up very quickly or lightly. At least that's what I think."

Emma pursed her lips in thought. "It's no less than he deserves Tessa."

"Maybe so." Tessa slid around Scratch's hind end to start on his other side. "But beggars can't be choosers, especially not when you need all the guns you can get. Just keep that in mind before you go being too rude to him."

Emma sniffed delicately, as good as saying, "I'd never" and marched back to the fire, back poker straight. As she watched her go, bemused, Tessa scanned the other occupants of the fireside. Chisolm looked as relaxed as he ever did (which didn't mean much considering) and Vasquez was still jittery. But it wasn't as bad as before.

A broad head nudged her hard enough to make her stagger as Scratch reminded her she had more important things to tend to. Namely his nightly massage. "Yes yes, no need to get all testy." she muttered and got back to work.

The sooner she was done the sooner she could get some rest. They didn't have too far to travel, but Tessa wanted all her wits about her. Just in case.


	4. Is It Meaningless?

Hi guys! I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am that this is so late in coming! I had to give my computer to a friend for a few days, and then I had to find the will to write this chapter. I'm impatient, Tessa isn't, and to Tessa I bow. Plus writing this chapter was a royal pain the butt! Things just weren't working smoothly! If you have any constructive criticism let me know, because I hate this whole chapter and I can't make myself like it. *sigh* Bear with me.

Well, on with the show! Literally half the delay for this chapter was researching how many Asian people came to America to work on the railroad. I don't know where I was going with it. Anyway...

* * *

 _Half of what I say is meaningless,_

 _but I say it so that the other half may_

 _reach you._

 _-_ Khalil Gibran

Vasquez talked to Chisolm and only Chisolm for the next two days. Emma was relieved. Tessa did her best to take it in stride and keep busy. Scratch handled the boredom with much less grace than his rider, but on the bright side, the mule had never been so well groomed. It was a wonder, Tessa laughed to herself, she hadn't brushed him bald in places. After two days of relative inactivity, the saddle was a welcome weight on his back; so welcome he didn't fight the girth around his ribs.

"Did you buy him that ugly or is your life so rough he got this way by accident chiquita?"

The question startled her slightly and Tessa turned to face the outlaw. After two days of limited contact, there he stood, one hand on his gun belt, the other gripping the collar of his vest. The posture looked relaxed, right up until you got to his restless brown eyes set in a handsome face. The stray thought drew her up sharply. Since when did she notice something like that? In her distraction Tessa wasn't paying full attention to Vasquez until he moved. The motion rippled along her peripheral as he drew up to his full height and both hands hands went to rest easily on his gun belt. A minute shift, casual looking, except Tessa's senses shouted predator. A smirk teased at the corner of his mouth.

"See something you like chiquita?"

Tessa blinked. Just once. She was not, in spite of what her face was telling her, _blushing._ Tessa Newell _did not_ blush, and Tessa Newell had hit bigger men for less implied. It was only while she was arguing with herself that she realized she still hadn't spoken. And she was still staring. By that time, Vasquez's smirk had widened into a fully fledged grin, crinkling the corners of his eyes and suffusing his face with unexpected warmth.

"I didn't buy him," she blurted out, unable to think under the onslaught of that smile and her own embarrassment. A cocked eyebrow prompted her to rush on. "He was a mine mule in Montana, they were going to put him down because he kept escaping. And I thought, animal that smart shouldn't go to waste. So I got the miners to give him to me, and we came to an agreement."

Scratch, animal though he was lived only to prove her wrong; he shoved his coffin shaped head into the small of her back. It was not a gentle shove. Normally Tessa was facing him, and _braced_ for it. She'd learned early in the days of their frustrating partnership to not turn her back on him. He wouldn't hurt her (on purpose) but he'd cause all sorts of mischief, up to and including shoving her bodily places he wanted her to go. Places she _didn't want to go_ , like the arms of an outlaw. Tessa staggered and would have fallen if Vasquez hadn't reached out unthinkingly to grip her above her elbows and brace her body with his.

 _Warm_ , was her first and overwhelming thought as her brain abruptly stopped working. His hands were broad and scorching on her arms, even through her shirt, and for the first time in her life Tessa truly felt small. He surrounded her, fully, chest to chest and thigh to thigh. Startled gray eyes flew up to meet dark brown, and Tessa was absurdly relieved to find he looked just as surprised as she felt. Her heart thundered in her ears, and neither of them looked away.

Then someone cleared their throat and Vasquez literally _threw_ her away from him. He was strong for being so rangy looking; Tessa flew back and bounced off of a very unhappy Scratch with a sharp grunt. Chisolm looked between them as she picked herself up and seemed to have a whole emotion or two while she did. Tessa wasn't sure what emotion it was precisely, but she was sure she didn't want to know. But Chisolm good man that he was, didn't say a word except to inform them that they had riders incoming.

Vasquez didn't look at her as he nodded and went to his own horse. Chisolm did look at her. "You alright?"

Tessa met his eyes squarely and scratched her savage mule behind one long ear. "It's days like this I wish I had shot this fool animal back in Montana," she informed him, because there was no explaining that. For his part, duly sworn warrant officer in six territories Sam Chisolm nodded as if that made perfect sense and went to greet a very thin, very enthusiastic man. Faraday stumbled drunkenly off his horse. Tessa took a moment to gather herself.

There was no explanation for that whole occurrence. She didn't know why exactly she'd reacted the way she did, or why she hadn't gone for his throat as soon as he'd grabbed her...and she wasn't going to think of it. Tessa firmly pressed her confusion and her questions aside and filed them away to think about later. Much, much later.

* * *

Getting on the road was simple after that (even if Faraday did try and pick a fight with Vasquez), as their party grew to include two more guns for the upcoming fight. Goodnight Robicheaux was a true southern gentleman, all bright grins and easy charm. Billy Rocks was...mysterious was the best word, Tessa decided. She was surprised to see someone like him not working on the railroad. Indentured service was tricky to get out of while a man was still relatively young, or able bodied. She had a lot of questions, but the man's stoic facade and belt full of knives did not lend to easy conversation. It wasn't like he needed to converse. Goodnight Robicheaux did enough talking for two people.

"What a merry a band we are," he proclaimed loftily. "Me a gray, Chisolm a blue, Billy a mysterious man of the orient, a drunk Irishman, a Texican, two females and one gentleman caller-good luck ladies-" Tessa snapped around to glare at him but the Cajun just winked and chuckled patronizingly. "This is not going to end well."

"I'm Mexican Cabron," Vasquez spat over his horses shoulder. "No such thing as a Texican."

"Try telling that to my granddaddy." Goodnight retorted. " He died at the Alamo. New Orleans Grays, long barracks, bayonets. Blood. Teeth. Mauled by a horde of screaming brown devils,"

Tessa glanced at Vasquez, and was baffled to see not offense, but that same coyote grin he'd given Chisolm back at the cabin. Men, she thought, shaking her head. The outlaw leaned over his horse, but his hands stayed away from his guns.

"My grandfather was one of those devils you know." he replied conversationally. "Toluca Battalion. Hey! Maybe my grandfather killed your grandfather, huh?"

She couldn't see his face, but Goodnight Robicheaux laughed roughly, "What a charming thought." Then, to Billy Rocks. "I sense we are bonding, hm?"

"Men," she muttered to Emma, who's only response was a telling look.

At that point they came upon a ramshackle little building and an equally ramshackle tent town off across the creek. Tessa peered around curiously as they dismounted before she looked to Chisolm. "You must have someone specific in mind if we're all the way in the back end of nowhere," she remarked. He dipped his chin, acknowledging her point.

"Man by the name of Jack Horne. You might've heard of him."

"Jack Horne? _The_ Jack Horne?" Faraday butted in before Tessa had a chance to respond.

"Did I hear you fella's mention Jack Horne?"

The smaller woman sighed, abandoning the conversation and made sure Scratch was tied securely to the hitching post before she went to sit on the front porch of the fledgling general store. Try as she might, she couldn't exactly ignore the looming outlaw over her right shoulder. She could have sworn she felt eyes on her, but when she glanced up, everyone was focused on the eavesdropper.

He and his brother ("The Pigeon brothers!") were eager to share what they knew of Jack Horne. Mainly they were very eager to confess to their murdering him, which Tessa found baffling, given they were all complete strangers. Who just went around and confessed to killing a man for money?

The Pigeon brothers. Apparently.

"You're talking about Jack Horne? The legend Jack Horne?" Robicheaux demanded, voicing Tessa's thoughts aloud.

"Ha! Legend my ass! He might've killed 300 Crow, but he ain't never met the Pigeon brothers." proclaimed the eavesdropper proudly.

"And you're saying that's Jack Horne's rifle?" Chisolm had a smile on his face that was more disbelief than true humor.

" _Was_ , it was Jack Horne's rifle. And there's an Army fort wants to pay $1000 for proof of dea-" He stuttered a bit when his brother knocked him in the shoulder but the damage was done. "Well anyway, we figure a rifle will do."

"You've no body?" Faraday asked.

"Well you see, Len here smashed a boulder over his head. He fell off a cliff." Not-Len explained cheerfully.

It was, Tessa thought, a truly astonishing feat that two such miscreants had made it to adulthood.

"Snuck up on him huh?" Goodnight Robicheaux was equally unimpressed.

"Just what the hell are you imply-grrk!"

It took everything Tessa had not to physically leap out of her skin as a hatchet sprouted from Len Pigeon's chest, permanently interrupting whatever he'd been getting all offended about. She was pretty sure her mouth hung open as he who could only be Jack Horne came marching over the ridge, straight for the remaining Pigeon brother. The man stumbled away on shaking legs and tried (and failed) to shoot Horne, instead hitting only broad blue sky. Before he could even think of adjusting his aim Horne was on him, and bringing him down to the ground. She winced as the mans neck snapped, audible even from several feet away. The blood on the old trackers silver hair stood out like a beacon. That he was upright and hunting down his attempted murderers was nothing short of miracle.

"Seven hells." she found herself uttering. There went a man Tessa fervently hoped she never crossed.

"The Pigeon brothers weren't famous very long," was Robicheaux's lazy assessment. The others laughed.

Horne turned his attention to them, and whoever might have laughed stopped immediately. "These two ungodly creatures broke a rock on my head. Robbed me of my possessions. I've trailed them for two days…" he trailed off, glancing around uncertainly.

"They got what they deserved Mr. Horne," Chisolm cut in carefully. "My name is Sam Chisom. We met about six years ago up in Cheyenne. Do you recall?"

By that time Horne had come to his first victim, brusquely rolling the body onto its back so he could retrieve his hatchet. His face was startlingly pale under all the blood and dirt and Tessa felt a rush of concern. The man's eyes were strangely distant, as if only part of him was there in the first place. He spoke again voice increasingly reedy, as if Chisolm hadn't said a word.

"Now I got a right, by the Lord and by the law, to take back what belongs to belongs to me. Are we in agreement?" he demanded, challenging.

No one said a word, but Tessa sensed movement over her shoulder, a collective sense of hands raised placatingly.

"...Yessir," Chisom responded after a beat, and that seemed to be what Mr. Horne was waiting for as he pulled the bulk of himself to his feet. "You still collecting scalps?"

"The government don't pay a bounty on redskins anymore." Faraday added in what he probably thought was a wheedling tone. "You must be out of work."

Horne's voice was the softest it had been since they'd met, when he responded to Chisolm. "Now that's part of another story, ain't it?"

"Yes it is," Chisolm replied softly. But he soldiered on quickly. "We, uh...we're looking for some men, Mr. Horne, some good men, like yourself, to do a job. Going after a fella name of Bartholomew Bogue and his men. Just...Well, thought you might be interested."

Horne didn't look at them as he pulled his horses reins from the hitching post and walked away, shoulders slumped, a far cry from the blood and vinegar man he'd been when he'd walked onto the scene. Tessa watched him go, heart pounding with worry, and made a split second decision. She went quickly to Scratch and led him off after Horne.

"I believe that bear was wearing people's clothe- Hey where're you going?"

"Good question." But Chisolm didn't make a move to stop her, merely cocked his head, waiting for an explanation. Well he was going to be disappointed.

"This won't take long. I'll catch up with you shortly. You're heading right back the way we came aren't you? And then West?" Tessa informed him, smiling when he frowned.

"Yes, but what're you-"

"Don't worry about it. And it's not like I'm reneging on the deal, not when my brothers are in the belly of the beast." Tessa interrupted, tugging Scratch along without waiting for a response.

"Where is she going?" Faraday's voice rose behind her as he demanded an explanation, along with Teddy's who tried to stop her, but she ignored them and focused on back end of Horne's gelding as it disappeared around the bend. Her pace quickened. Something was telling her that if she didn't catch him now, she wasn't going to be catching him, period.

She crested the hill panting and was relieved to see Horne hadn't gotten very far, though he had already made it to the bottom of the hill. For such an old man, he sure moved quickly. Tessa gathered enough breath to call out.

"Mr. Horne!" Even from a distance she saw him twitch, but he made no move to turn. Growling, Tessa persisted.

"Mr. Horne! Just a moment of your time, _please_?" This time she didn't recieve even a twitch for her troubles. Tessa broke into a jog.

It occured to Tessa, as she trotted down the rocky hill, that this wasn't the smartest idea she'd ever had. Particularly because she had trouble running over flat ground sometimes, let alone up or down inclines. It was a miracle she hadn't tripped-

Even as the thought crossed her mind a stone rolled out from under her foot, and one leg went flying out from under her with it, entirely without her consent. Tessa barely had time to yelp in surprise before gravity brought her sharply down. While Scratch watched, ears twitching, Tessa rolled a few feet before a much larger rock brought her to a halt. Unimpressed as ever, Scratch bent down and tore up some rough scrub while his rider took a careful inventory of herself.

Her ankle throbbed lightly, but she could move it with no troubles, so Tessa left it alone and gently examined her head. A little tender, but nothing terrible. She dropped her hands with a sigh. She should be grateful, she knew, that no one had seen that happen; it wasn't as if she didn't have enough problems already trying to earn respect men were born with. That didn't mean she wasn't exasperated with herself for it.

The brush rustled behind her and bumps and bruises aside, Tessa twisted around, drawing her gun and sighting her target with practiced ease. Then she blinked, startled.

"Are you alright miss?" asked Jack Horne in a worried, delicate voice. He'd snuck up on her, horse and all.

She blinked again and holstered her weapon. "Believe it or not, I was only running so I could see if you'd let me tend your head wound."

He tilted his head, as if he didn't understand her words, but he did offer her a hand up, and tugged her to her feet with a careless strength she envied. "That's kind of you Miss."

"Tessa Newell, Mr. Horne, and does that mean you'll let me take a look at you?" she pressed.

"Well, I...that is…" For such a large man, he was almost endearingly hesitant, fingering his vest nervously while he stared at the ground as if it held all the answers. Tessa felt a rush of compassion for him. Life, it seemed, had not been kind to him.

"Mr. Horne, you have my word that I won't try and talk you into anything, or ask anything of you. I really do want to see about your head. I imagine it hurts quite a bit." she said gently.

His head bobbed unevenly as he mulled over her words, and for all his size and apparent savagery, Tess found herself unafraid. He hadn't made a move for his hatchet, or the large knife in his belt even when she'd had a gun on him. There was a sense that he didn't relish killing, which was puzzling, but seemed to fit. Finally he nodded and Tessa offered him a smile.

It was crooked, but he did smile back.

* * *

They didn't speak while she got her supplies in order, and he didn't reply when Tessa explained what she was going to do. The most she got for a long time was a quiet hiss when she started stitching his head back together, but that was it. It wasn't a large cut, more a patch of busted skin than anything, but it had been open for two days, and she wasn't taking chances.

Tessa kept her work light but firm. It would do no good to flinch from it now, or be tender. The quicker the better, when it came to sewing. The silk thread caught the light occasionally as she worked and Horne didn't flinch from it. Finally she knotted it and clipped the end off with a pleased little hum. It was just as well she was done because when he finally spoke Tessa almost startled out of her skin.

"You're very good Miss. Were you a nurse in the war?"

"I-no. No I wasn't. This just isn't the first time I've had to stitch someone." she laughed shortly as she put her thread away. "If I thought you'd have listened I'd have pointed you straight to a doctor, but you're headed back into the mountains, so I didn't think you'd find one."

She almost patted his shoulder before thinking better of it. "That should do you. Do you think you can find someone to remove them?"

"I think I can manage," he assured her, watching her intently as she went to put her supplies away. Tessa didn't call him out on it. It seemed like he was trying to figure her out.

"...Why did you come after me miss?" Tessa paused minutely, before sliding the bottle of iodine back into place, took her time to answer.

"You were hurt." she said quietly. "And you were alone. I've done things I'm not proud of, but I never did feel right about leaving people with head injuries to fend for themselves.

When she turned back to face him, he was on his feet again ( he moved so quietly for such a large man!) and eyeing her quizzically. She went on with a wry smile, "And if you're wondering why I, a woman, ran after you, a strange man, it wasn't to try and coerce you into anything. I'd make a terrible whore. I just...I mean we could use your help I think. But I also think, maybe you've done enough killing."

He flinched, a full body, harsh motion that instantly made Tessa feel like an absolute monster. It was all the answer she needed. She waited until she caught his gaze again and was very careful to keep any pity she might have felt out of her gaze. When she had his full attention she continued, almost tenderly: "I don't know why you did what you did. You're reasons are between you and God, and I won't insult you by telling you falsehoods. We're going to kill a lot of people, and maybe be killed in the process. Bogue and his men have...well to put it lightly they are abusing their power over the people of Rose Creek. It isn't pretty, and it won't be pretty. I don't know if it's the right cause, a right cause. But I think it's a worthwhile one. Keep an eye on that head wound alright?"

Her piece said Tessa mounted up and tipped her hat to the old tracker, who made an absent-minded courtesy in return. She felt eyes on her back when she rode up the hill, but when she glanced back, Horne had already gathered up his horse and was heading in the opposite direction. Sighing, she let herself sit for just a moment, and lifted her eyes up. _I tried_ , she told herself _. I did what I thought was best. That's all I can do._

She made it to the bottom of the hill without incident and urged Scratch into a trot, then a canter on the road west. If they kept a brisk pace, Tessa had no doubt she'd find her new companions long before nightfall.


	5. The Outlaw Saw

Okay! Here's chapter five! Keep in mind: I lied when I said it would all be from Tessa's point of view and I've branched out. Additionally, I wrote this whole chapter after researching and talking with my guys friends. I hope I did him justice. The action should start to pick up in the next chapter. For all who are still reading, thanks for hanging in there!

 **Disclaimer: I use the word Indian because that's the word _they_ use in the movie. I don't think the term Native American surfaced until a few years later.**

 **Also, about the Spanish...Vasquez speaks excellent English. I have this headcanon he was a vaquero at some point (because of the sash on his waist) and maybe he learned English while on the job? I dunno, but his English is good, but I inserted Spanish words because Vasquez _is_ Spanish, and I wanted to keep true to that. Just, if I write from Billy Rocks POV don't expect Korean. I feel like his POV would be really short and to the point...I'm rambling... Okay enjoy!**

I don't own the Magnificent Seven! Just Tessa, Nick, Joe, and Scratch. Love them all.

* * *

 ** _"virago"_**

 _-(noun) A word with Latin roots, virago is defined as a strong, courageous woman_

 _with a warlike heart;_

 _she is a woman who portrays exemplary and heroic qualities._

Heavy hoofbeats came up on the trail behind and Vasquez couldn't stop himself from tensing up at the sound. Slowly he turned to look and relaxed in spite of himself. It was the little "bounty hunter", riding up on the trail looking no worse the wear for her rabbit trail. He snorted quietly and turned his back on her before those sharp ash-dark eyes could pin him again. He did watch out of the corner of his eye as she urged her mule next to Chisolm's horse and spoke in her quiet, clipped way.

Maybe she was saving her words up, he mused. He'd never heard someone speak like she did, in a rush to get them all out neatly before someone stopped her. He swore at himself. He needed to stop thinking about the _gringa_ and pay attention to his surroundings. He was still wanted, even if Chisolm had promised him safe passage. Up ahead she guided her battle scarred mule out of the way so she could fall in beside Mrs. Cullen. The two women exchanged a few words, voices soft enough that he couldn't make out what they were saying, even though he was practically right in front of them.

Faraday, having watched the whole exchange much more obviously than Vasquez himself had also pulled out of the group so he could wedge himself in between Mrs. Cullen and...Tessa, he'd heard the other woman call her. He didn't remember her last name, if he'd ever learned it. Robicheaux riding on his right, shot him a smirk, glancing meaningfully at the riders behind him.

"So I guess it didn't work huh?" Faraday drawled.

A beat of silence. Then, quiet and clipped. "To what are you referring Mr. Faraday?"

"Well you chased after him to _convince_ him right? You might not be a whore sweetheart but you sure could use some lessons if you can't tempt a mountain man out of his hidey hole-WOAH!"

There was a sudden disturbance behind him and Vasquez tugged his horses head around sharply, as did Roubicheax and his friend, just in time to see Tessa get a hand under Faraday's left foot and, with a jerk and twist, tip him out of his saddle. A startled bark laughter escaped him before Vasquez could stop it, but Tessa didn't even look at him as she swung herself out of her own saddle, long black braid swinging as she stomped to Faraday, one pistol already in hand. Before the man could gather himself, she kicked away the hand reaching for his gun, and pressed her booted heel into his wrist. She cocked the hammer and pointed it directly at his stunned face.

"Mr. Faraday, the last time I confronted you while drunk, I twisted your other wrist. I thought I had made my point-"

"Woman, OW, Jesus-!"

He watched her thigh flex as she dug her heel in, much to Faraday's displeasure. The gun remained rock steady and her voice was scarily cheerful. "I'm not done talking, so shut up."

He did.

"The last time we met, you put your hands on me, and I could have broken your wrist, but I didn't. Now you've called me a whore, when I made it _quite clear_ , what would happen if you called me that again." She shifted her weight forward and Faraday groaned low through gritted teeth. "We need your wrists intact Mr. Faraday. I'll give you one more chance to be as polite to me as I've been to you. Now, do we have an accord?"

The crazy _gringo_ somehow managed to smile, even with his face screwed up in pain. "I think I can manage that."

Vasquez couldn't see her face, only the flexing curve of her jawline. She let him up after a beat of silence. Faraday very wisely made no move towards his guns as he climbed to his feet. He stared. The long braid down her back shivered once.

"I think I'm in love."

The woman snorted and holstered her weapon and didn't bother with a response. Vasquez eyed the man's sappy grin as she turned away to collect her animal.

Sam's voice came drew their collective attention: "Now that that's settled can we get back on the road now? Faraday get back on my horse. And Ms. Newell?"

Her small chin jutted forward defiantly and Vasquez glanced at Sam to see his reaction. He could have sworn the man grinned. "Try not to go picking any more fights until we reach Rose Creek."

She rolled her eyes but mounted her angry mule (a very good fit for such _una mujer ardiente_ ) without complaint. But if you asked him later he would have sworn up and down he heard her mutter, "He started it."

* * *

She was watching Faraday. This meant he could watch her without the risk of her looking back. For a woman, she was very observant. And so quick! He wouldn't have thought anyone was fast enough to get away from his lasso, let alone draw a gun as they did. But she had. Those sharp ash-eyes had fixed on him like a living thing, and she'd stared him right down without flinching. Sam said she was a bounty hunter. He hadn't believed it then, but he was starting to.

Vasquez rolled out his bedroll, half his attention on Tessa. She'd set up her own spot as far away from Faraday as she could reasonably be, tucked herself into the curve of the rock face. He knew that look too. She'd picked a fight and now she was waiting for the hammer to drop. The fire cast long shadows across her face and those eyes flicked to him, striking him sharply enough that he looked away. He'd had her pressed against him, could still feel her softness and warmth if he thought about it, but it was those _eyes_ he couldn't get out of his head.

His hands balled into fists.

He was thinking too much.

Shaking his head, Vasquez determinedly lifted his head to find she was watching Faraday again. The _gringo_ was perched on a rock watching the fire, but he glanced up occasionally to wink at her. He didn't have to look at Tessa to figure she was probably getting upset about it. He shifted slightly and her shoulders hitched at the slight noise, but she didn't take her narrowed eyes off of the drunkard. At the rate things were going she wasn't going to sleep at all, thinking Faraday was going to come and stab her or something.

He heaved a sigh, loud enough to finally draw her gaze.

"He's not gonna hurt you _chiquita_."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"I know backstabbers eh? Believe me. He's already forgotten it. Man like that," he lifted one shoulder. "Doesn't hold grudges. He's an _idiota, si,_ but he settles his fights when they happen. You settled yours. Get some rest."

Some of the tension bled out of her shoulders, but he could see the lines on her forehead even in the firelight. He almost, _almost_ promised to sleep light, keep an ear on her. Just in case he was wrong (he didn't think he was. Faraday wasn't acting like a man about to even a score. He was acting a _lot_ like a lovestruck fool). But instead he dipped his hat down over his eyes and told himself to go to sleep.

* * *

"He's insane." Tessa said grimly, and Vasquez had to agree with her.

When Chisolm spoke the Indian's language, the only thing keeping Vasquez upright was his will to live. When he walked over to him after handing Vasquez his gun, well…

The _chiquita_ was right. Chisolm was _loco_.

The two spoke in tones too low to hear and everyone nearly had a collective heart attack when he got off his horse and pulled out a knife. The feisty woman actually sprang forward a few paces as if she'd go rescue him, but Vasquez made a sharp noise through his teeth without thinking, and to his surprise, she listened. She did glare at him though, eyes gunmetal bright in the dawn.

He looked away.

They all watched, and no one seemed to breathe when the Indian cut out a piece of the deer and handed it to Chisolm. He couldn't quite see what the warrant officer did, but it was an easy guess. Tessa let out a small disgusted noise, clearly thinking the same thing. Vasquez shook his head. He did not envy Sam Chisolm his madness at the moment, however brave it made him.

And just like that, it was over. Chisolm slapped his hands full of dust together and took his gun back, face set like stone.

"Need some water there Chisolm?" Tessa asked, voice teasing. The man didn't break stride.

"Just get the fire started."


	6. The Bird's Eye View

Hi guys! Thank you so much for your patience and your comments! (You know who you are my lovely, encouraging readers). Your comments keep me going and inspired, so thank you so much!

So, the story is definitely picking up now! I'm definitely branching out as far as POV's lol. Hopefully I did Joey justice. I think this is my first time writing a fight scene and I tried to write it from a birds eye view, as the title of this chapter suggests. Hopefully I've done that justice too. And yes, poor Joe is reloading quite a lot but it's an old model rifle so cut him some slack! He always gets his man.

As always I don't own the Mag7, but I do own Tessa, Nick, and Joe, and they are my darlings.

* * *

 _We don't know how far the ripples of our decisions go. We kill one and maybe save a thousand._

 _-Fox, Wanted (2008)_

For a woman who regularly tripped over air, Tessa sure laughed at other people a lot. She was giggling quietly between harsh whispers while Joe shinnied up the drain pipe at the back end of the general store, shoulders straining with the effort to haul himself up, hand over hand. His boots skidded uselessly against the rough boards, but after a few hauls he managed to use his knees to get some leverage.

Below him, he could hear the familiar wheezing noises Tessa made when she was trying not to laugh. He scowled but couldn't spare the attention to tell her off.

By the time he made it to the roof, his breathing was hot and harsh across his face, trapped there by the remains of Tessa's red scarf.

 _!_

 _"Quick put these on!"_

 _Nick jumped so hard he rammed his knee into the underside of the table. "T-Tess! Wha-"_

 _"Shhhh! Come on! Things are about to go down, I need you two to wear these on your face so you don't attract friendly fire." She held out the ragged cloth straps encouragingly._

 _Joe took his, bewildered. "That's...great? How did...how did you even…?"_

 _"Not now," she flapped her hand distractedly, casting a glance over her shoulder at the proprieter, who was trying not to seem interested. Then she looked at him. "How's your climbing Joe?"_

 _!_

When he got on the roof, there was an Indian there.

He stalled, utterly nonplussed, one leg thrown over the edge and the other dangling in space. The Indian was holding up a dead man with one arm, seemingly unbothered by the dead weight (ha). They stared at each other for a long moment before Joe recognized the dead man as one of the Blackstone agents he'd been pumping for information for the past several days. The Indian kept staring and Joe offered him a nervous smile.

"My sister didn't mention you," he babbled by way of explanation.

Somewhere below, Tessa sounded like she was dying.

If she lived through this, Joe would probably make sure it stuck.

It was difficult to tell under all the intricate war paint, but it looked like he smirked, before he turned his (intense) attention elsewhere. Joe dragged himself all the way on the roof and peered over the edge, already forming some blistering words when he saw Tessa, tears streaming down her face, holding a ladder.

Oh. _Oh_. _That's_ what she'd been trying to get his attention about.

He fought down a blush. "Have some dignity woman!"

She cocked her head, hand cupped mockingly around her ear at his hissed words but then gathered herself, flashing a questioning thumbs up to him. He sighed but responded in kind. With a perfunctory nod she tossed his rifle up into his waiting hand and set the ladder up a moment later. With that she was gone, padding stealthily around the corner of the nearest building.

! _!_

 _Joe grabbed the cloth and then grabbed her arm, pinning her effectively in place as she got ready to rabbit. "Tess," he said firmly, "You need to explain better."_

 _His sister was short enough that with her hat in the way, he couldn't see her expression, but he knew enough to she rolled her eyes at him before she tilted her head back far enough to look him in the face. By the time she got into position her expression was more resigned than impatient. Tessa was smarter than both of them, probably, but sometimes she forgot that other people couldn't read her mind._

 _"Chisolm has aquired seven other men for this disaster of a job and they're getting into position around town. How many agents do they have here by the way?"_

 _"Twenty men, all currently in town." Nick rumbled over his shoulder._

 _"Aha. Well, anyway, I don't want you two getting shot but we clearly need the extra lead, so I showed them my scarf and told them if any of them hurt you two I'd give them a reckoning." She smiled her wide coyote smile up at them, the dangerous one. "You should probably wear them around your faces." she added._

 _!_

Joe kept low on the rooftop and watched it unfold. He couldn't spy his sister but Nick had appeared around the livery on the other side of the street, just outside everyone else's view. He'd be going after the Blackstone's in the barber shop then. Joe sent up a quick prayer that his mettlesome older sister wouldn't bite off more than she could chew.

He huffed softly at himself. That was unlikely.

A sharp, short whistle cut through his musing and a cold thrill raced up his spine bringing him instantly on full alert. The tense little gathering in the center of town (such as it was) looked a whole lot more tense and he could feel eyes looking at him. But no, not at him, Joe realized, glancing over at the Indian. At Perry-the-former-Blackstone-Agent. The man's forearms bulged as he held the dead man up and hid behind his body.

Another sound followed the whistle; it might have been a word, but it wasn't one Joe had heard before. The Indian dropped Perry's body and it fell with a resounding thud. He cocked his rifle sharply and sighted a Blackstone on the saloon's balcony. A arrow hissed through the air and found a neat home in an enemy chest. Joe blinked and for a wild instant wished he'd tried to talk his siblings out of this.

The first gunshot was expected, but it still came as something of a surprise. Joe didn't flinch, just took down his first man. Below, on the street there was a sudden seethe of movement, like an ant hill disturbed. The man on the saloon porch looked like he had the balcony handled so Joe turned his attention to the ground, picking off another agent and reloading by feel alone.

His mind ticked off what he saw cooly, though later he would probably be a little horrified. Two men down by knives, a bear of a man bringing down his opponent with a hurled axe and shouting-Nick hit a man hard enough that he didn't get up again, spun and shot another.

He raised his rifle and got off two quick shots, covering the small man with the knives, before he ducked inside McClay's. While he reloaded again, he spotted a darting shape he knew instantly as Tessa, saw her break upon a larger shape like a wave breaking on a rock. The man fell and didn't get up again. Her pistols flashed as she whirled back-to-back with Nick.

Joe turned to cover the man at the end of the street, stumbling with rifle raised but not shooting. He got off his shots, while another man finished off the rest. The very large man tackled a horse. He almost laughed at the absurdity, and picked off a Blackstone tangling with his sister.

The whole thing passed in the kind of vicious blur (with its rare moments of clarity), as only fights can. He recalled it in flashes, the moments where he reloaded and wasn't sighting his next target down the barrel of his rifle.

Two men fought back to back in the street.

Arrows hissed and found their targets.

Tessa punched a man in the throat (her brass knuckles were lethal) and while he struggled to breathe, she put a bullet in him.

Nick gutted a man and Joe caught a full glimpse of his intestines, a waterfall of pink and scarlet.

One man almost escaped. Almost. It was a long shot and Joe almost didn't make the shot. But he put his rifle up to his shoulder, a distant line of his sister's many musings coming to mind.

"Kill one, save a thousand."

The horse kept running. The man fell off. He didn't get back up.

The Indian opted to simply leap off the porch roof. Joe admired his bravery and his athleticism, and was comfortable enough in his own bravery and athleticism to make for the ladder and take the safer way down. Nick and Tessa met him at the bottom, and Joe tugged the remnants of her scarf down under his chin. Nick's own stood out like a flash of blood at his throat. Joe determinedly ignored that and scanned them surreptitiously for injuries.

Nicks knuckles were a little torn up but that was nothing new. There was a splash of blood on Tessa's forearm, but her wilting smile reached her eyes, and he relaxed, because that meant she wasn't hurting. They stood a moment, not touching, not speaking. Just rested their eyes on one another and breathing in the sudden quiet. Joe offered her the tattered remains of her scarf and that broke the spell. Her smile widened into something truer and Nick patted him clumsily on the shoulder as they left the alley in step.

* * *

Joe hadn't really registered just how diverse the group Chisolm had assembled was from his perch on the rooftop; seeing and hearing them up close and personal raised his eyebrows sharply. He studied them while they modestly bragged on how many they'd killed. Tessa added her two cents (because of course she did) and two sets of eyes in particular locked on to her. Joe shared a meaningful glance with Nick over the brown felt of Tess's hat and they both stared at the tall ginger (drunk man who cheated at cards from several days ago) and a tall wolfish Mexican, in unanimous, unspoken agreement. They stared long enough, Nick with his arms crossed and Joe with his rifle pointed innocently down, to make a quiet point. _Look or touch at your own risk._

Tessa was largely unaware of the agreement they'd come to two years and five states ago.

The drunkard offered a smirk and a nod (which could have meant anything Joe thought exasperatedly) and the Mexican tipped his chin in acknowledgement and looked to Chisolm who had crouched down and was coaxing the sherriff out of his bolt hole. The fat little man emerged, looking dirt and scared and he heard Tessa scoff quietly. Silently Joe agreed with her. The man had made his bed, the least he could do was own up to it.

"We want you to send a little message to your boss," Chisolm said when the man had complied and dropped his badge into the dust.

The former sheriff's chuckled as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Mister, you already sent him a message only you're not gonna like his answer."

"Tell him we have his town, we have his whole valley." Chisolm drove placidly on, like the other hadn't even spoken. "He want it back, he's gonna have to make a deal with us."

"He don't make deals," retorted the sheriff. "You can ask anybody here. He's just gonna send as many men as it takes to squash you flat."

"We'll be waiting. In the meantime, you tell him this: Lincoln, like the president. Say it."

The sheriff dutifully repeated, like a large, hairy schoolboy.

"That's right," Chisolm nodded. "Lincoln Kansas. And you tell him if he don't show up himself, he ain't nothing but a yellow-bellied sapsucking coward." The man looked away like he couldn't bear the sight of the disgraced lawman. "Go on git. Git!"

Then, just when Joe thought it was over he stopped him. "Sam Chisolm. Say it."

He repeated that too, so quiet Joe had to strain to hear it. But it was enough for Chisolm.

"Well this is quite the welcome party," the ginger cut in sarcastically, effectively breaking the residual tension.

"Where is everybody?" the Mexican added turning as if expecting to see the townsfolk pop out from barrels shouting, "Surprise!"

"More importantly who're these?" asked a scarecrow of a man, addressing Tessa. She gave a minute shrug.

"My little brothers, Nick and Joe Newell. Boys, meet Goodnight Robicheaux, Billy Rocks, Faraday, Vasquez, Jack Horne and Red Harvest. Of course you've met Mr. Chisolm." she introduced without drawing a breath, pointing to each man in turn.

"They are not little." the man who was probably Billy Rocks said in a faintly chilling monotone.

"I'm the oldest," Tessa replied with great dignity. "It is my God-given right to refer to them as such."

Nick dragged her hat down over her eyes. "Shut up Tess."

While Tessa squawked and they all shared a quiet laugh at her expense, two riders approached calling for their fellow townsfolk to come out from their hiding spots. She followed them all to perch on the porch of the dry-goods store and the townsfolk emerged. Mrs. Cullen looked no worse for the wear after nearly a weeks hard riding and made her way to stand with Chisolm's band. Joe made sure to place himself between Tessa and the rest.

He felt the glares of some of the townfolk while Mrs. Cullen explained the what and the why's of the situation; if Nick felt their stares like he did, his hulking brother didn't show it. He pulled out a thin cigarette and lit it.

"Who picked you to deal on our behalf?" challenged Gavin David, who Joe would not be letting Tessa know he was well acquainted with.

"Seems I was the only one with balls enough to do so." replied their employer cooly and Joe watched every man's head whip around to stare at her. Tessa smothered her laughter into his shoulder. "As I've said these men are here to help us. Mr. Chisolm."

And with that Emma Cullen neatly dumped the entire burden of explaining the situation into Sam Chisolm's lap. Joe smiled into his hand at the look on the mans face.

"Uh, my name is Sam Chisolm. I'm a duly sworn warrant officer in Kansas. I'm also a liscensed peace officer in the Indian Territories, Arkansa and seven other states. Now what happened here was...just an opening skirmish. The real battle is yet to come. The idea is that when it comes it'll be on our terms."

"On _our_ terms?" scoffed a man who was probably named Larry, if Joe remembered right. "Yeah, there's no way in hell." Others took up the cry.

"Bogue'll come back and slaughter us all!" The crowd began to writhe.

Mrs. Cullen's voice cut through their murmurs, clear and strident. "If you want to leave, _leave_. Just don't take anything you didn't bring with you."

"You want to keep your town you're going to have to fight for it." Chisolm added, tone cajoling. "Now we're here to help you but you've got to help us. We're going to need every somebody out here-"

"Some help!" cried a voice from the back of the crowd. A long bony arm jutted up and pointed straight at Joe. Or Nick. But everyone got the idea. "Those two are Blackstone agents!"

"Come and say that up here to their faces." Tessa snapped back, pitching her voice to carry easily. Nick shook his head as Joe opened his mouth to intervene and he rocked back. "Mr. Chisolm sent these men ahead to gather information from Bogue's own agents, and give us a leg up in the fight to come. They've been here six days and have gathered valuable secrets."

She was bluffing since she had no idea what they'd done for the past week, but the crowd murmured, doubting now and unsure who to trust. Joe had to admire his sister's ability to stare a man (or a crowd) dead in the eye and lie convincingly through her teeth.

"Be that as it may," cut in another, "are you suggesting we wait here to face retaliation?"

"Hell yeah he is!" Teddy Q shouted emphatically. "Let them come! We'll be ready for them."

The preacher minced forward in his polite way to address Chisolm. "I beg pardon sir. The spirit is willing, but… we are not killers."

"Most aren't till they're looking down the barrel of a gun." Chisolm agreed calmly.

"I've never shot at anything that can shoot back, but this is my town and damn if I won't defend it." declared a man.

"That's right, and let me tell you the men that are coming here, they're gonna underestimate you. That'll be their first mistake." Chisolm replied until a tall, weathered looking woman interrupted.

"That's all well and good, but we don't have enough time. Bogue said he'd be back in three weeks, that was eight days ago-"

"One week."

"What?" she fell back a step, surprised. "No, one week?"

"One week," Chisolm confirmed over the murmurs of the crowd. "Three days ride to Sacramento with the bad news, one day for Bogue to plan and three days back. Seven days is all you've got."

The angry mutter of the crowd had by then died to a nervous whisper as everyone looked a one another for some leader to emerge. Finding none they all looked more or less back to Chisolm. "We'll get started in the morning. Get a good night's rest. May be your last for awhile."

The crowd slowly dispersed and Tessa went to tend to Mrs. Cullen. Nick side eyed their sister and looked over to Joe as the hired guns followed suit. Faraday cast a glance behind him at her, like she was some exotic animal he'd never seen before.

"These seven days are going to be a special kind of hell."

* * *

No one would eat with them. Or sit near them. Joe didn't know about his siblings, but he was keenly aware of the wide berth everyone was giving them. People who ate at the saloon did so in the smaller room, away from the bar. He glanced at them. Nick tucked down, shoveling food into his mouth like it might vanish, and Tessa, staring off into space like she wasn't even in the room. She ate in the perfunctory way she did when she didn't like the food. He snorted into his plate. They knew. They just didn't care.

Tessa had found time for a bath somewhere and had let her hair down to dry. When she'd first walked in with Mrs. Cullen, he'd had to fight the serious urge to shoot someone. The way some of them stared, like they'd never seen a woman with hair before! Gold flashed at her throat where she'd left the top button undone, so maybe that was why they stared so. He glanced over again and realized what had been bothering him. Tessa kept her gun belt but had forgone her rust red vest in favor of just wearing her clean shirt. Nobody could see anything, but it was a curiously vulnerable look.

No _wonder_ the outlaw kept stealing glances at her.

 _!_

 _"No." Tessa said firmly, palm flat over his heart._

 _"But that's-" Nick protested._

 _"I'm well aware, and I said_ **no.** _" Tessa scowled up at them both._

 _Vasquez-the-Outlaw was grinning wildly over her shoulder, and even Chisolm looked on in amusement._

 _"But he's-"_

 _"Chisolm decided to hire Vasquez even though he's an outlaw. I've traveled with him for several days and I have not judged him to be a danger." She paused, squinted. "To us that is. So_ .no. **bounty."** _Each word was punctuated with a sharp poke from her finger._

 _!_

"...long as he stops licking his lips over mine." That snapped Joe out of his woolgathering. He glanced questioningly at Tess, who always seemed to know when he was in need of an answer. She tipped her head towards Red Harvest, who was, by then, eyeing the table with no small amount of suspicion. She didn't clarify.

The meal passed in relative silence and true to form Tessa finished first, and turned her attention to staring out the dark hole of the window. She flicked a glance at him and Joe swallowed his last mouthful before nudging Nick. He grunted but got up to follow them.

"Goodnight everyone, see you in the morning." Tessa said politely.

Joe didn't miss her toss an apple underhand to Red Harvest as they left the room. He didn't waste energy wondering where she got it. Tessa never failed to sniff out fruits and vegetables.

They walked out into the quiet dark and made their way to McCay's boarding house without speaking. It was only when they were safely ensconced in Tessa's room with her pad and pencil out that she spoke.

"What have you learned?" The pencil quivered expectantly in her hand.

"Bogue's got near a hundred men on his roster," Nick began. His chair groaned as he tipped it back on two legs. "Give or take a few. All of them come well armed, all Blackstone's."

Her pencil lashed across the page. "Trained?"

"Decently. More than few were in the war, and the rest were either rustlers or lawmen."

A pause, she looked up at Joe. "What kind of guns? Any surprises?"

"Maybe a few repeaters, but they aren't standard issue yet so I don't think we have to worry about the whole lot of them having them." Joe assured her. "Standard pistols and rifle assortments. No bayonets though. I think they had enough of gutting people in the war. One thing that bothers me though…"

Tessa's head shot up, a bloodhound scenting its quarry. "What?"

He looked at Nick who shook his head grimly in the affirmative. Joe sighed. "Some of the men made noises about Bogue having heavy artillery. I couldn't get them to say what exactly. McCann, Bogue's former right hand man was smart about it. He nearly caught on to us Tess. We couldn't press them for more information without setting him off."

A match flared and smoke from Nick's cigarette curled towards the ceiling. "He's right Tess. McCann was a leader for a reason. The man was as dirty as they come but he as smart about it."

She sat back, eyes nearly black in the lanterns flickering light. "Aha. We'll come back to that. What else have you found?"

"The ground from the valley floor and into town takes too long to cover," said Nick flatly. "Couldn't measure it exactly, but I counted it as best I could. Two or three minutes."

Her pencil scratched and she tapped the page thoughtfully. Joe rolled his coin between his fingers. "Alright. I'll be thinking on that. Maybe Chisolm will have an idea."

"They've got stocks of kerosene and the general store has a few extra jars for sale." Joe offered helpfully. "Few nails and some broken glass, bit of det cord? Ready made shrapnel."

His sister's grin was downright wolfish. Joe knew his own wasn't much better. Tessa's eyes glittered silver. "Tell me more about this idea of yours."


	7. Coffee, Knives, In that Order

**Hi guys! Hermes here! PLEASE READ THE BOLD?**

 **Okay first off. Thanks to my lovely reviewers, _Dalonega Noquisi and Sam0728!_ Your faithful comments make my day, just so you know, and they keep me writing. The rest of you know who you are you lurkers you. I see your views don't think I don't.**

 **SEcond! I have made a poll! PLEASE GO AND VOTE ON IT MY LOVELY READERS! Tessa is going to be shipped with someone because I am a romantic and I _can't resist_. The poll is on my profile, or it should be. You've got four options, go nuts. Please?**

This is kind of a filler chapter, but necessary because I am a stickler for detail and like, Tessa is my gal, I gotta show her off. I aim to avoid having all the guys fall in love with her, because ew Mary Sue, but she is going to interact with them all, because hello character development. That being said, I feel like Faraday flirting is well in line with how I've been writing that goof.

All that being said, on with the show~!

* * *

" _I've got to get something inside me._

 _Some coffee or something._

 _And then the world will somehow be better."_

Terry Prachett, Men at Arms

She closed her eyes for a few minutes and woke roughly to the sound of Nick pounding on her door. The gun she'd carefully hung on the side of the bed, (safely holstered of course) the night before was in her hand and cocked before she'd fully opened her eyes.

"Tess!"

All the breath left her in a rush. Tessa sagged back against the mattress and pressed a hand to her pounding heart. Usually Joe woke her. She had forgotten Nick's...aggressive methods.

"We're having breakfast in the saloon Tess! Hurry up! I'm not going to save you any."

"You'd better at least save me some coffee!" she threatened, shoving her weapon back into its holster.

Her brother laughed quietly on the other side of the door but his light tread vanished down the hall with no more comment. Tessa rubbed the sleep from gritty eyes and made her way to the basin on the far wall with unbalanced steps. She didn't waste time with the mirror; she scrubbed the sleep from her skin and tamed her hair by way of two thick braids.

Tessa grabbed her binders and cringed as she eyed the long strips of linen; they were stiff with sweat and had become a beige color she associated with dirt. Or a general state of uncleanliness. The state of them! She shook her head and began the laborious process of wrapping herself, pushing up and tucking what she could. Tessa tried not to hurry. If she did it wrong, they would just get looser and looser until she might as well have worn nothing at all under her shirt.

A series of lunges and stretches assured her the chest binding was as it should be and she quickly shrugged the rest of her clothes. A quick glance showed her writing satchel right where she left it. Tessa scooped it up quickly and made for the door. Even as she did she ran the sensitive pads of her fingers across her belt and noted the rough, cracked feel of the leather with a wince. Evidently, her linens were not the only things in need of some upkeep. She ran the town through her mind, considering where best to get the things she might need and swung the door open.

"Oh!"

Tessa snatched for her gun and forced herself to stop just as quickly. Mrs. McClay stared at her, blinking her watery blue eyes rapidly in the face of such a surprise as a customer exiting her room. The younger woman sucked in a deep breath and offered her most polite smile. "Good morning ma'am, I apologize if I startled you. I'll just be on my way now. Have a pleasant morning."

She brushed gently past the other, drawing the door firmly shut behind her as she did so. By then the woman had recovered from her shock and was eyeing her shrewdly.

"Don't you own any skirts girl?" she demanded.

The tone as much as the words drew Tessa up sharply and she paused on the step. Slowly, as slowly as she dared she turned to look at the lady. Her mouth was probably a pretty mouth when it wasn't all puckered in disapproval, Tessa noted absently. One foot tapped impatiently and the hand that wasn't occupied with a basket of bed linens made an impatient gesture. Tessa blinked.

"I beg your pardon," she began slowly.

"It ain't decent," interrupted the esteemed Mrs. McClay. "And mark my words missy, this is a decent establishment." She sneered and wagged a long finger under Tessa's nose. "Just because your brothers are fighting for our town doesn't mean you get to flounce around like some of them heathens across the way. So missy, you start acting decent, act like a proper lady, and I won't have my husband throw you out."

Where on earth had that come from?

Tessa blinked again and gently moved the accusatory finger from her general space. She touched her guns, equally gently, and loosened the knife in its sheath as if to check it was still there. She did all this, very carefully, while making eye contact. Mrs. McClay did not get the hint, but raised a still dark eyebrow at her, waiting. She shut her eyes and sighed.

"You seem to be laboring under some delusions. Mrs. McClay, so allow me to clarify," Tessa gave her a polite smile and held up three fingers. She ticked them off as she spoke. ". . Firstly, I will be leaving, I'm sure the Elysium has a corner I can sleep in. Second, these guns are not for show. And thirdly," she leaned into the others space, and the pulse hammered in the older woman's throat. "I can wear pants if _I damn well please to_."

Mrs. McClay gasped and clutched her proverbial pearls, nearly spilling her clean laundry in her upset. Tessa grinned. "I'll be back some time today to move my things out of my room. If you leave everything just as it should be, I'll leave a generous tip."

With a wink she left the gasping fuddy duddy at the top of the stairs and sauntered out into the sunshine.

* * *

"Did you get lost?" Nick snarked but he slid a plate and a cup of coffee across the table to her.

"I met Mrs. McClay." Tessa replied shortly and gave a general nod to the rest of the table as she sat. Half the table didn't even glance up from their plates.

"Oh." Nick gave her a sheepish smile.

"Yes, oh." Tessa shot him a knowing look. She surreptitiously sniffed at her plate and tried a bite. With a shrug she tucked in. Better than beans for certain.

"What oh? Why oh?" Faraday flashed her a grin around his mouthful of breakfast and Tessa raised an eyebrow at his apparent friendliness but didn't comment.

"Mrs. McClay of McClay's boarding house has decided that I am an indecent woman because I wear pants." she explained and took a tentative sip of her coffee. It was hot but not scalding and it seemed Nick had managed to scrounge up some sugar. She gave him a grateful smile.

Faraday shook his head and swallowed his mouthful. "Ah to hell with her. You fight decent and you can't fight in a dress."

Tessa's eyebrows couldn't have gotten any higher if she'd tried. The onslaught of support was pleasant but entirely unexpected. "I can fight in a dress," was all she said and Vasquez snorted from his place.

"I would have like to see that." he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"No you wouldn't." chorused Joe and Nick quickly. Tessa glanced at them sharply and neither met her eye.

"What's that like, fighting in a dress?" Faraday leaned on elbow on the table, into Billy Rocks' space. The other glared at him but gave her a curious look as well.

Tessa considered a moment, flicking her gaze from her brothers to the newly watching eyes at the table. "Breezy," she said finally.

A few things happened in quick succession. Robicheaux snorted so hard he spat coffee onto his plate, Vasquez choked on his food, and Horne shared a despairing look with God while her brothers laughed. The noise edged on desperate. Faraday blinked at her, mouth agape and quickly dissolved into a gleeful belly laugh, while Rocks just shook his head and went back to his food.

This was the scene Sam Chisolm walked into, resignation in every line of his body. He looked at Tessa. "I'm not going to ask. You come up with anything last night?"

"As far as strategies?" Tessa sipped her coffee, meeting his eyes over the rim of her cup. "I have a few things here, but nothing concrete."

"Well we'll need all the help we can get," Chisolm said heavily and sat down with his own plate. Tessa slid him her satchel.

"Open it," she said encouragingly. "That's the list of supplies they found, things we can use. Our biggest challenge is shortening the amount of ground the enemy can use." He nodded slowly, eyes scanning her scribbles with a promising scrutiny. She chewed quickly and went on, "I'm thinking if we can't find ways to bottleneck them, then we're done for."

He found the last page, scanned it quickly and and his eyes widened. The expression on his face when he met her eyes was a strange one, page raised in question. The others made curious noises at him but Tessa met his gaze squarely and calmly explained. "Shrapnel like that can stop a whole troop of men."

* * *

The wagons began to roll out before they'd even finished breakfast. Tessa watched Joe say goodbye to several painted ladies, all of whom looked genuinely sad to be leaving him, as the others talked quietly behind her. She huffed softly and drained the last of her coffee. When had he become such a ladies man? Joe helped the last girl into the coach and waved her off, hat in hand and over his heart in a move that should have been theatrical, but actually came across as sincere. How he managed it, she would never know.

"You're brother has quite the way with the ladies."

She turned slightly to regard Faraday who was watching Joe with begrudging admiration. She couldn't help but smile. "Well you aren't wrong. He can be charming when he wants to be."

"What about you?" He turned to her, voice abruptly low and silky.

Tessa cocked her head warily, blinked. "I don't follow…"

"Can you be charming Ms. Newell?"

Faraday fixed her with a steady gaze that smoldered, and Tessa realized with an abrupt sense of dismay that he was handsome. Her belly fluttered and heat flooded up her neck. "I-I don't-" His smile unfurled like a peacock's tail as she scrambled for a coherent answer.

Oh, seven _hells_.

A heavy hand clamped on her shoulder and Tessa threw an elbow back sharply. She realized a split second too late who it was and Nick wheezed slightly. She was pretty sure Faraday snickered but she was so busy apologizing she couldn't confirm. She also missed the entire parade of townspeople willing to fight. Tessa turned to face the building next door, cast a pleading look to heaven, and fought to get herself under control. So,Faraday was flirting. He was probably drunk again. She was a _professional_ , and she needed to _focus_. She could not afford to get distracted by a pretty face.

With a firm nod, Tessa drew in a deep breath and was about to go after Chisolm when a hot puff of air across her ear had her freezing in place.

"That wasn't very charming was it?" Tessa fought to disguise her full body shudder, but from the extra puff of air she felt, she hadn't succeeded. _When in the hell had her neck become that sensitive?_

"Oops! Sorry Faraday!"

Tessa narrowly escaped being taken down with Faraday as Nick somehow managed to trip over thin air and accidentally shove the other man off the porch. Concerned, she grabbed his face in her hands, studying his pupils and his color anxiously. "You're not getting sick are you? You're not usually so clumsy."

Nick gently pried her hands off his face and patted her shoulder. "I'm fine Tess, nothing to worry about." He smiled thinly down at Faraday who was glaring up at him. "Sorry again friend. Accidents happen."

The smile Faraday sent back was more of a grimace and Tessa glanced between them, uncertain. "No harm no foul. It's like you said, friend. Accidents happen." They didn't break eye contact, smiling sharp little smiles.

"Okay," Tessa announced, slowly taking a step back. Neither man so much as glanced in her direction. "'m just...going to, you know, look over my notes. Talk to Chisolm."

"I believe he and Mr. Robicheaux have agreed to take the men out shooting." Horne gestured to the general area behind the Elysium by way of explanation. Tessa nodded her gratitude but couldn't contain the small sound of frustration.

It wasn't how she would have done it, but Chisolm was in charge. Scowling (not pouting) she made her way back inside for more coffee. Might as well go over her notes again.

* * *

Tessa sank back in her chair with a groan, muscles protesting the move. She frowned up at the ceiling. It wasn't enough to teach the men to shoot, though that was absolutely necessary. They didn't have enough ammo, and they didn't have enough guns. Even if they managed to funnel the men into the breach, that didn't mean they could hold them off long enough to whittle their numbers down to a manageable size. Figures whirled through her head as she tried to make it work.

With a growl, she ran a hand through her hair, realized it was braided and swore softly under her breath. She rubbed furiously at her forehead and straightened.. Tension had built up in her shoulders while she was hunched over and they made their displeasure known very clearly as she changed position. Tessa flicked open her battered watch. She'd been at it for an hour and a half, and every hour was important, but she needed a break. Mind made up Tessa plopped her hat on her head, rolled her satchel up and made for the practice field.

Guns were sounding periodically and as she rounded the corner of a small shed she almost ran into a group of men heading towards the makeshift shooting range. They were grumbling under their breath as a whole and she only caught a word here and there, something about "impossible" and "better off shooting" or the like. She watched them go, baffled as to what had gotten them so worked up on the first day.

"If you've come to see a show, don't bother, I'm going to help teach them to shoot." came Billy Rocks' low voice. Tessa turned, eyebrows raised.

"What on earth did you do to them?" she questioned, trying not to laugh. Rocks gave her a flat look and wiped one of his knives off with a handkerchief before he sheathing it.

"I tried to show them how to use knives. They did not find it as easy as I do."

Tessa folded her arms, appraising the straw dummies and noting the slash marks where Rocks had obviously demonstrated his prowess. She nodded appreciatively. "I doubt many do Mr. Rocks. You're a regular artist. I like knives myself, but I've never come close to doing what you do."

Rocks head tilted slightly, black eyes intent on her face. Tessa couldn't read him (which was more than a little unsettling) but she returned his study placidly enough. Then she made a decision. With a little sigh (he was probably going to take it the wrong way) she reached into her shirt and into the top layer of her binders and pulled out her favorite push dagger. By then the man's eyebrows had disappeared under the brim of his hat but there was a curious spark in his eyes. Tessa snorted and curled the dagger into her fist.

"I use knuckle dusters if I want to make a point, but if I'm in real danger I use this. I'm not fancy but it makes my punches count."

"May I?" He held out a gloved hand, and Tessa smiled, flipping the tool so the wicked little blade lay balanced across her fingers, handle towards him.

He picked it up carefully and curled it into his own fist. His hands were bigger than hers but it still fit, leather wrap on the handle and all. The leaf shaped blade looked totally incongruous in his clenched fist, but then he made a positively balletic move, slashing and spinning. Suddenly her little blade was dangerous. A wild, bright grin split Tessa's face.

"Can you teach me that?" she demanded, practically vibrating in place, and quickly remembered her manners. "Please?"

To her utter surprise, the stoic man gave a quiet laugh. "Sure. But we'll start with these first." And he drew one of the many long knives from his belt and hand it to her handle first. "Slash, stab, there's nothing to it."

"Oh sure," Tessa agreed brightly, testing the blades balance. "But there's always something new to be learned."

The look Rocks gave her was inscrutable but he seemed concerned, and Tessa just smiled widely. She was feeling better already. It was shaping up to be a nice day.


	8. Setting Traps

**Just so you know, none of you are crazy, THIS chapter 8 is very different than the FIRST chapter 8. Thanks to Dalonega Noquisi for your review, but the first version of chapter 8 really bothered me, so as I was struggling with mighty chapter 9, THIS happened. Enjoy! I enjoyed writing it, so much guys. Also you might have noticed, I'm shipping Tessa and Vasquez now! Thanks to the FIVE of you who voted lol. Don't worry my faithful readers, we'll be getting to the romance in a bit. Maybe.**

* * *

 _"Isn't it...silly...how...upsetting just thinking can be?"_

 _"It isn't silly at all. The insides of our own minds are the scariest things there are."_

Robin McKinley, Sunshine

Tessa growled under her breath and ducked into the cool interior of the Elysium as casually as she could make it look. She cast a sparse glance around and spotted one of the few remaining painted ladies passed out on the piano. The woman released a sigh of relief and leaned against a table, grateful that no one else was to be found. Nick and Joe had been awfully finicky lately, and she had no desire to see them try to tangle with Faraday. Even though it would be satisfying to give the man a black eye or two. She had nothing against him of course, he'd proven to be relatively benign. (His kindness towards the miners had been...unexpected, but pleasant). He was still _annoying_.

"Everything alright cher?"

A startled squeak escaped before Tessa could stop it but she coughed sharply and whirled around to face Goodnight, who was watching her, brows raised in amusement. His long rifle was cradled with absent-minded care in the crook of one arm, his hat in hand. The look on his face said he had heard her little slip up, but he was willing to let it pass if she was.

"Everything is fine, or it would be, except for _Faraday,_ " she responded darkly, aware of the scowl on her face but unable to stop it. Goodnight's smirk widened into a full-fledged grin.

"Oh?" he asked, managing to make the one syllable three. He leaned next to her on the table. The glass in the cat's hand clinked sharply as it hit the boards but they both ignored it in favor of exchanging looks. Tessa had come to read Goodnight fairly well during their long "discussions" of literature, but in turn he'd come to read her just as well, if not better. The man could adopt a hell of a poker face, much to her annoyance. But in this moment, she had no problem reading his expression.

"Don't give me that." she pointed at him for emphasis, ignoring his snort. "I have been _trying_ to get work done, and Faraday keeps _following_ me around." With her free hand she held her papers aloft to demonstrate. "Which, you know, if he was being helpful, well that would be one thing, but he keeps wanting to show me _card tricks_." Her tone tipped up in bewilderment, which no doubt showed on her face.

Goodnight smiled, barely restrained laughter in his tone. " _Oh?_ "

A blush leapt unbidden to her cheeks. "Look, Goodnight, you and Nick and Joe have the wrong idea-"

"We most certainly do _not_." the sniper objected, straightening up from his artful slouch in defense of his words. "That boy has been flirting with you since you tipped him off his horse."

"Oh, _that_." Tessa waved her hand impatiently. "I know _that_." She'd long ago established he wasn't taking her umbrage personally. It had only been a few days, but it felt a lifetime ago.

"But you aren't taking him seriously." Goodnight pointed out, finally dropping his smile.

"Well of course not," Tessa rolled her eyes and tucked her papers under one arm. "I've got work to do. I thought that would get him to stop by now is all."

"Well, you can't say the boy isn't determined." he shrugged and put his hat back on with a courtly bow. Such was Goodnight that he managed not to look ridiculous doing it, even though he was holding a rifle. "Here now cher, how about I escort you and fend him off so you can get your work done? What are you working on anyway? I thought the trenches were sufficient for whatever you and Sam have cooked up."

She smiled up at him, pushing her worries about Faraday away for the moment, and pulled out a page to show him her ideas. "Well, they are excellent of course, but the ground in front of the trenches is important, arguably more so."

They walked into the sunshine, Tessa setting a brisk pace that Goodnight managed to keep and still look like he was taking a leisurely stroll. Tessa continued, indicating with one finger the line she meant to set 40 yards away from the trenches where the men would stay hidden until needed. "...and this way, the men are safe from the bits of flying glass and metal that will cripple the enemy. Between the kerosene and the dynamite, it'll create a hell of a bang."

Goodnight plucked the paper from her hand gently, looking it over with an eye that saw and understood the carnage she was going to cause. His eyes went dark, and faraway, and he adopted a faintly haunted expression. Tessa studied him, growing worried, but he came back suddenly, from whatever distant place he'd gone to and gave her a funny smile that turned her stomach, though she couldn't say why. He offered her the paper and she took it slowly.

"I," he said after a long pause. "I am glad you are on our side cher."

There was no judgement in his tone, but Tessa felt judged all the same, and her shoulders hunched inward without her consent.

* * *

Goodnight left her after she'd delivered her news to Horne and Chisolm, who were overseeing the digging of the trenches. Chisolm was grave as he accepted the schematics, but he looked them over with grim approval all the same and went to set the lines where the holes would be dug, and the jars laid. Horne looked at her for a long moment and finally nodded, before going back to his work. Tessa's shoulders hunched further down.

With that there was nothing left to do. They wouldn't let Tessa help dig, and the children had the pinwheels under control. Even Faraday had been conscripted into laying det cord rigging the explosives. She wandered aimlessly for a time, listening to Joe and Goodnight harass the men of the town into a better form of shooting, and the hammers rising and falling in various buildings. The work of preparing a town for siege was never done. Eventually she found herself behind the dry goods store next door to the school, staring out over the brush.

It was a rare moment of quiet, and Tessa wished she could appreciate it, but she couldn't get Goodnight's expression out of her head, or his words. With a sigh she sat on the cellar doors of the building, set her writing materials at her feet and lowered her head into her hands. It was _necessary_. That was the issue. It was necessary, to lay the jars, and the dynamite, and-and _hurt_ them to win. But the haunted look on Goodnight's face had jerked her into a reality she'd been carefully avoiding since she'd started planning.

These were real people she was going to maim and kill with her devices.

Tessa knew of course, that if she hadn't suggested it, someone else would have suggested something like it. Somehow that didn't make it any easier. Tendrils of hair escaped from her braid tickled her forehead as she levered herself back upright and she absently brushed them away, and looked down at her knees.

Bounty hunting was one thing, she told herself. But this was warfare, plain and simple, and she'd never….Tessa pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes hard enough that colors burst there in the dark. She'd never systematically _broken_ men before. And she was going to, no mistake about it. What the shrapnel didn't take, the fire surely would.

And the sad, stupid thing about it? There was no other option. Not one that didn't devastate half the town and her people.

"Are you alright?"

Tessa's shoulders hurt when she jumped (she'd been holding them so tensely) and she looked up at Billy, startled. She'd been so wrapped up in her own head, she hadn't heard him coming. Something in her face must have revealed what she was feeling, because he read her expression carefully and then just as carefully, sat down beside her. Tessa stared at him, baffled, but he didn't speak, only lit one of his strange smelling cigarettes. He drew in a lungful of smoke and expelled it before he offered it to her. Tessa silently shook her head no.

They didn't speak.

He took three long puffs from his cigarette before the words found their way out. "I've never been in a war before." she said, and wondered why those were the words she'd chosen. "I've hunted men, I've trapped them and baited them like you would a fox, and I've seen them swing for their crimes. I've never done war."

She didn't dare look at Billy, just watched the tall grass wave in the breeze. Tessa drew in a deep breath of smoky air and continued. "The devices I've designed are enough to cripple a man, if not kill him right out, never mind what they're going to do to a horse. Between them and the dynamite…." she shut her eyes against the onslaught her imagination offered. "It will be hell Billy. One can take out up to four men, and we're going to have _fifteen_ of these things out in the field. And I know, I know we won't have a better chance without them. We don't have the manpower, the guns or ammo, and the men can't shoot worth a dam." The energy racing through her was unbearable and she shot to her feet, pacing.

"I _understand_ that. I do, and don't mistake me, I want to live and I want my brothers to live. And I also understand that if I hadn't suggested this then someone else would have suggested something else. Maybe something _worse,_ though I seriously doubt it." She waved, encompassing the whole town in the one gesture. "I hope I'm not sounding self important here, because I'm not trying to be honestly, but I've looked at the maps and the defenses we've laid time and time again and, and maybe I'm just stupid, but I can't devise a better way to decimate the enemy- But they aren't just the enemy Billy, they are men with _families_ and _lives,_ and the ones that run into the field in front of the trenches are going to _die_ in the worst way. _And I don't know how to feel about that_."

Her chest was heaving with her words and she finally looked at Billy, only to find him studying the sky with a quiet intensity that seemed incongruous with her outburst. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for but when he nodded for her to sit back down she did. She also declined his offer of his cigarette again.

He exhaled a long cloud of smoke. "Do you feel better now?"

Tessa blinked. "Not really, no."

"Good."

Tessa dropped her head into her hands, a hysterical laughter threatening to bubble over. She addressed her knees because further eye contact seemed impossible. "Well thanks for that Billy."

"Do you think they could make that decision?"

In spite of herself, Tessa glanced up at him, a question in her gaze. He jerked his chin over to the flood of children, recently freed from the schoolhouse, and their mothers trailing after, talking and laughing. Emma was there too, talking quietly with the assistant schoolteacher. Past that scene, men milled in and about buildings, hauling boards and their voices were a low counterpoint to their offspring. It was a painfully domestic scene, even though she knew the children were going to plant the pinwheels and the men were preparing the town for war. Tessa's heart clenched.

"They shouldn't have to." she responded honestly.

"True. But do you think they _could_ have?"

Tessa turned to him abruptly, ready to launch a return volley because, what, what was he even _suggesting_? But Billy's steady gaze smothered the fire, and the words died on her tongue, and she slumped where she sat. "No," she whispered. Because it was true. They had never seen what she was about to wreak.

"It isn't fair." Billy acknowledged. "But you take responsibility for your bloodshed. And you did what they could not." He drew in another deep draught of smoke and the words puffed out white when he added "And I like living, personally."

"So do they." Tessa pointed out morosely. Billy nodded. His cigarette was burning low. He didn't ask which "they" she meant. He knew.

"They knew what they were getting in to. They decided to come here and hurt women and children. The whole world hurts women and children, but very rarely do you get these clear cut battles, where you know what you are fighting for is right."

Tessa met his gaze squarely, mouth tipping up at the corner. "I think that's the most I've heard you say at any time."

Billy took one last drag of his smoke and stubbed it out in the dirt. "Don't get used to it."

A slow smile curled her lips, Billy wouldn't meet her eyes. "You're secretly a sweetheart." she accused, delighted beyond all reason.

He turned and fixed her with a glare that had probably made lesser men quake in their boots and Tessa considered being frightened for a moment before she burst out laughing. He walked away, but not before she caught the barest hint of a smile on his face.


	9. Nothing In This World I Wouldn't Do

I said there would be romance didn't I? Eheh, well, I don't know exactly where this chapter came from, but the story is quickly taking on a life of it's own, and those are the best kinds of stories. A little longer this time, and from Nick's point of view! **Let me know what you think because I was trying to find that line between "Aww" and "This is too cheesy to live" and I'm not sure I succeeded.**

 **Special thanks to: Dalonega Noquisiwho has faithfully reviewed since chapter one! You are so encouraging!**

 **TheWorldInADay, you're reviews are always so thoughtful and inspiring, and I look forward to them!**

 **Sam0728, who has also stuck it out from chapter one onward! I thank you for mentioning the parts you liked specifically, as that always tickles me.**

Silly as it seems, you guys keep me going, so thanks so much for your reviews and encouragement.

Hermes out!

* * *

 _Hey brother! Do you still believe in one another?_

 _Hey sister! Do you still believe in love? I wonder._

 _Oh, when the sky comes falling down, for you_

 _There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do._

Avicii, "Hey Brother"

In spite of everything, Nick found he liked Vasquez. The man was a murderer, and he tended to linger in his sisters vivid presence as if she held answers to his questions, but for all that, Vasquez was a solid, steady presence throughout the grueling workweek that accompanied fortifying the town. He wasn't perturbed by Nick's near permanent scowl (he had, as Tessa would say, a resting frowny face). Plus he was a good conversationalist. They could exchange a few words, and that would sustain them for the next few hours, whereupon they would exchange a few more words.

You didn't find such men every day.

Working alongside him was easy, and he never begrudged Nick his ignorance, he only asked that the other be willing to learn. And learn Nick did. The house he and his siblings wintered in had already stood when they'd bought the land it stood on, so no carpentry was required. He was glad to learn a little now, because there were sure to be a few repairs needed come autumn. Nick carefully carried the next stock of boards to the wagon so they could be distributed into town when it was full. Privately, he wondered if they would do any good.

But no. Nick shook his head as if he could physically jar such thoughts into silence and nodded briefly to Vasquez before taking up his borrowed spokeshave and peeling strips of bark off the log he was working on. He eyed it critically. Two boards could be gotten from this, for sure. Maybe even three, if he did it right. He went to work a little harder. They were on the fifth day. If Bogue wasn't going to get there tomorrow, then it would be the next day. But they wouldn't get a day after. Even with men working around the clock, every bit of effort helped.

"Slow down," Vasquez instructed, without even glancing up. "If you pull the tool too quickly, you'll get an uneven board."

"Does it matter?" Nick countered, but he did as he said. "Uneven or not, it'll still cover a window."

"Si, but, the boards can be used after the battle." Vasquez eyed his own work and gave a slight nod as if he was patting himself on the back.

"Provided the towns still standing." Nick muttered.

"Exactamente."

Nick rolled his eyes and applied his tool as instructed. He'd gotten into a good rhythm when Tessa came striding in, a bounce in her step. "Hey ho little brother!" she greeted, and then, more subdued but not unfriendly: "Vasquez."

"Tess," he frowned, not wanting to be interrupted. Tessa just smiled, eyes crinkling cheerfully at the corners. Dark wisps of hair edged out from under her hat, framing her face and making her look younger than her 28 years. Nick didn't care to look to see what Vasquez thought of his sisters "comfortable disarray" as she liked to call it.

"I've brought you some water." she lifted a bucket as proof. "And for you too Vas." The nickname emerged casually, but Nick eyed her sharply, then relaxed. From the look on her face, she hadn't mean to do it. Vas glanced up at her quickly. Tessa quickly corrected herself, a blush showing ruddy under her tawny tan.

"Eh, Vas is fine." Vasquez waved aside her apologies, but he was careful not to look at her. Was his own face getting darker? Nick could only watch, with the kind of horrified fascination of one watching a lion rip apart a deer, as Tessa blushed harder. Her face was practically glowing with it.

"Then Tessa will suffice, Vas." She lingered on the last word and wordlessly offered him the dipper. He took it and Nick was treated to the sight of them staring at one another like they just couldn't help themselves.

 _She likes him. Sweet Jesus she does._

At the very least, she was attracted to him. But knowing Tessa, she probably hadn't even considered that liking him was a viable option at the time. When Vas had had his drink Tessa quickly exited, not even noticing Nick reach for his own drink. He watched her go, braid swinging with the force of her stride, and he knew he was gaping, but he couldn't help it. He'd never seen her so discombobulated over a man before. He slowly turned to look at Vasquez, who was very pointedly not meeting his gaze. There was, however, a hint of a smile on his face.

"If you touch her, without her permission they will never find your body. To hell with the bounty." he said suddenly.

Vasquez looked up quick, once and away. There was a hint of the devil in his eyes. "What if I get her permission?"

"You won't." Nick said, aware he was being cruel, needing to say it. "Tessa may act like a hellion, but she wants a man who won't leave her." _Anything less is unacceptable._

The tool jerked sharply in Vasquez's hands and he glared, but Nick stood his ground and met his dark look calmly. Vasquez was the first to look away. Nodding to himself, Nick turned back to his own work.

There was no more conversation after that.

* * *

Joe flung himself into the room. When he was upset, Joe didn't walk, he _flung_ himself, as if the force of his ire alone could propel him where his legs could not. "She likes him." he exclaimed to the room, empty, save for Nick giving himself a bird bath in the corner. Nick looked up from the soap and rag in his hand and his mind jumped immediately to Vasquez. If he'd made a move on his sister not hours after he warned him off he would-

"We have to do something about Faraday." Joe declared, abruptly derailing Nick's homicidal line of thinking.

"Wait, what?" Nick blinked. "Tessa doesn't like Faraday." Internally he winced. What were they, children, to use words like, well, _like_?

"Yes she does, she's always laughing at him, letting him show her card tricks-"

"Yes, he's flirting with her, but that doesn't mean Tessa is flirting back." Nick cut him off. "She laughs at Rocks," (not that Nick knew how, since the man was terrifying) "do you think she li-I mean do you think she's gone on him too?"

Joe floundered. "Well, no, but…"

Nick recalled the look Tessa and Vasquez had shared earlier, and his sisters fidgeting. That smile on Vasquez's face. "No, Faraday is not the one we have to worry about."

Never let it be said both his siblings were too oblivious to live. Joe caught his tone and expression right away and his eyes narrowed. "Who do we have to worry about?"

"Vasquez," he sighed, and poured more water on the cloth in his hand. "He and Tessa have been...looking."

"Looking." Joe repeated flatly.

"Looking."

Nick scrubbed through the thatch of hair on his chest and down his belly. Water ran into the waistline of his trousers but he ignored the sensation. The day was warm, and even as evening came they would dry quickly enough. "I warned him off."

"Do you think it worked?"

"For him?" Nick recalled the look of almost-shame in the others eyes when he'd finally looked away. "Yes. But we should talk to Tessa. I've never seen her so...wrong footed...around a guy before."

Joe sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. "Tess is smarter than that. Trying to take up with an outlaw I mean." he clarified.

"I know." Nick wrung out his cloth. "But I'm telling you, she likes him. Or, at least, she's really attracted to him."

In his peripheries he could see Joe straighten, clearly startled. "Tess?" he asked, dubious. " _Tess_?"

" _Yes_." Nick confirmed, annoyed.

Joe slumped; a weird, skin crawly kind of giggle left him. "Of all the times for her to get her head out of a book or a wanted poster and...and look."

Nick nodded solemnly. Tess lived almost entirely in the abstract. For her to, well, notice someone was unusual. There was a beat of silence.

"So do you really think we should talk to her?"

Nick looked down at his scarred hands. Part of him wanted to say no, because as much as they all lived in one anothers pockets, there were somethings that shouldn't have to be discussed. Another part of him wanted to make sure Tess's attraction didn't blind her to any red flags. She was not stupid, but she was unused to romantic relationships. And he'd known smarter women to be burned by them.

"I do." he nodded at his hands. "I will, later."

Vasquez didn't seem like a wifebeater. But they never did.

* * *

He waited until after dinner. It was the one meal everyone gathered together for, and more and more townspeople were joining them in the restaurant after they'd realized no one was going to hurt them. Dinner was, to say the least, interesting.

"Her name is Ethel, and I love her." Faraday slurred slightly, no mean feat considering how much alcohol he'd downed.

"Hello Ethel, charmed." Goodnight responded, amused.

"I consider her to be the love of my life," he rambled on, causing Vasquez to nearly choke on his food. "And she is a no bull-shi**er, a straight shooter-"

"Calm down now," Horne put in, calm-as-you-please, as Faraday _took aim_. Nick subtly shifted out of the line of fire. Tessa was snickering into her water. "Put the gun away son."

"Her name is Ethel." Faraday corrected sharply. Or as sharply as he could while swaying in place. "You will show her some goddam respect."

"Alright, alright." Horne said placatingly.

"...It's Maria you can disrespect."

Joe loosed a honking gout of laughter that caused Goodnight to laugh twice as hard, and Nick saw Tessa nearly spit out her water in her amusement out of the corner of his eye. He shook his head. _We who are about to die will laugh at just about anything._

"Don't tell Ethel about Maria." Faraday shushed them.

"Wait wait wait, my Maria cabron?"

The laughter died as abruptly as it started as they all turned to look at Vasquez, who, as far as Nick could tell, wasn't drunk, but was pretty serious. His eyebrows shot up and he glanced quickly between the two men. Faraday shrugged, awkward as a startled deer. "You have a Maria?"

If he hadn't been watching, Nick would have missed the way his eyes flickered. Just a touch, but they touched on Tessa as he said it. Nick studied the man with renewed interest. Maybe Faraday wasn't as ridiculous as he acted.

"I have three Maria's!"

They all burst into laughter again, save for Tessa, who wore an odd little smile and quietly ate another bite of food. Nick studied her silently. Maybe no talk was needed, he considered, now that she saw what kind of man Vasquez was. Not a bad man. Just not good enough for her. Her eyes were flat and stark as rain clouds, revealing nothing as she shot him a questioning look. He shook is head. In spite of everything, his heart broke for her, just a little.

"...talk about guns, talk about women you talk about them separately." Horne was scolding, as only the older can scold their younger counterparts. "It ain't right."

"Sure it is my friend, sure it is." Vasquez waved him off, talking around a mouthful.

He didn't need to see Tess to know she was rolling her eyes.

"I had a family once. A wife, some children too." Horne's eyes went distant and Vasquez looked like he regretted his thoughtlessness for a moment. Nick couldn't bring himself to look at the man another moment. He shut his eyes against the onslaught of memories and Joe shifted in his seat so his arm laid against his.

A thump brought him out of his memories of Bethany. _Thank You Lord for this intercession_. He would never be so glad to see another woman as he was to see Leni Frankel in that moment. Of course, the way she was eying Horne detracted from the moment a bit. He could feel Joe shaking against his side.

"Now the stitching will outlast you I imagine."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," Horne nodded solemnly, reaching for his newly repaired vest. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"Well I didn't ask you to ask me." She cast him a lingering look as she walked away and Nick exchanged a smile with Tessa. It was sweet, in a really...odd...way.

Horne didn't look at any of them and Nick's smile spread a little wider. "Stop staring." He wasn't sure who he was pointing to, but the gesture seemed to encompass both Joe and Nick as well as Vasquez. "I didn't ask her to do that."

"Well I'm just saying, the lady did some poking and sticking for you, maybe you should consider return the favor," Vasquez giggled and made crude gestures with his fork. Despite everything it took all of Nick's strength not to burst out laughing. Tessa unfortunately didn't have his strength and clapped her hand over her mouth so she didn't send food flying everywhere. Horne took a long sip of whiskey to fortify himself as Tessa's belly heaved with her efforts and the others laughed.

* * *

Nick walked slowly into the livery, hands in his pockets. He wasn't sure how to broach the subject. It was one thing to discuss protecting his sister with Joe; it was another thing entirely to tell said sister that he didn't approve of the one man she actually had eyes for. Possibly ever. Nick paused at the door to the adjoining stables and caught the soft sound of his sisters mellow alto voice.

"...so fill to me the parting glass…"

He winced. It was worse than he'd first thought. Nick squared his shoulders and walked in.

"Singing to him won't make him any sweeter tempered." he said lightly and Tessa's head shot up from her work of tending Scratch. The animal raised his large head and flicked long ears back, clearly irritated to have his nightly routine interrupted.

"I like him the way he is anyway." Tessa defended her evil mule, as she always did and haughtily resumed brushing him down.

Because Nick was a coward, he let her continue uninterrupted for a few moments. When she'd first, ahem, "liberated" Scratch, the mule had been more scars than skin and filled with rage. He'd nearly torn her arm from her socket when she got a little too close too quickly. (He would never forget how she screamed.) Nick had been ready to shoot the animal then and there, in that little clearing in the woods. Tessa had talked him out of it, explaining that mules and donkeys were so smart, they knew to fear cruelty. Life had been so cruel to Scratch, he feared every human being.

She'd tamed him though. Looked under the scars and the patchy hide and transformed the hell beast into...less of a hell beast. Her heart was an open gate for broken things, broken people.

 _Maybe that's why she likes him._

"Tess," he started, and stopped when she turned to him. Her eyes were nearly black in the single lanterns glow.

"I know what you're going to say."

"You do?" Nick asked, bewildered. He'd known she was smart, of course, but this was veering sharply into sorcery.

"Yes. I know I've been acting like a...a... _girl_...in front of Vasquez-"

"I thought you called him Vas now?" Nick was unable to help himself and grinned when she glared and continued sharply.

"And I can assure you, it's not going to interfere when we fight."

Nick ran a hand through his hair. _Oh Tess._

"Firstly," he began slowly. "You aren't a girl, you're a grown woman, as you like to point out all the time." That got him a smile, and encouraged, he went on. "Second...that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I mean it is...but it isn't?"

"Is it or isn't it?" Tessa demanded narrowing her eyes.

Nick was already regretting his course of action, but he was committed now, by sheer virtue of Tessa's strength of will. "I mean...it's...well I mean….The thing is-"

"Nick!" she threw her brush down and Scratch snorted, turning to eye her as if to say, " _Excuse me? You are not done here!_ " She absently rubbed his nose to console him. "Spit it out!"

"Vasquez isn't for you!" he blurted out and closed his eyes as soon as the words were out. "That's not what I meant."

"...Pray tell, what did you mean to say?"

Her voice was cool, measured, and that was when he knew he'd really stepped in it. Nick drew in a deep breath and released it. He desperately wanted a cigarette. "I mean. Let me just say this first. I'm glad you like-I mean I'm glad to see you paying attention to men. Lord knows you've ignored every man who's ever genuinely wanted to get to know you. I want you to be happy. _You deserve to be happy_. But Vasquez, he's a good enough man." He met her eyes sharply, encouraged by the considering expression he found there. "But he isn't good enough for you."

She sucked in a sharp breath. Frowned and looked away. Then: "Because he's an outlaw right?"

"Well, that certainly doesn't help." Nick agreed dryly.

"He's also got three Maria's."

Both of the older Newell's startled and Scratch's head flew up, rings of white showing around his big dark eyes. Tessa drew his head down and murmured soothing things while Nick swore up at the hayloft where his brother's head poked out, grinning unrepentantly.

"How long have you been up there?" he demanded.

"I fell asleep up here after dinner." Joe explained cheerfully. "Tessa always gives Scratch his nightly rub down either right before or right after dinner, so I just figured I'd wait for the two of you. But then Tessa started singing and…" He trailed off with a shrug.

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling not to snap at his careless little brother. "I could have used your help you know." There, that wasn't so terrible.

"You were doing a great job." Joe's eyes were dancing. Nick resisted the urge to throw something at him, but it was a close thing. Seeing the danger Joe hastily craned his head around to address Tessa.

"Tess, Nick's right, you deserve a great guy." He paused as if searching for the right words. "You know, a guy who can totally handle a woman who can break his ribs if she needed to. There must be a guy who isn't scared of you out there, I mean the west is huge-"

"Joe."

"Right, right. Just. For an outlaw, Vasquez isn't, you know, a terrible person. He's just, like Nick said, not good enough for you."

Tessa looped an arm around Scratch's neck (which was always funny given the discrepancies in their heights) and looked down. Joe shot him an anxious look. Nick cleared his throat and approached the stall, carefully watching it's larger occupant. When he didn't lunge for him, he held out his hand. Tessa stared at it for a moment, but she took it. Her hand was small in his own, belying it's capable strength and he held her gently.

"I know you like him but he's….he could hurt you, and we just-"

"You've said." Tess interrupted softly. Her hand tightened in his. "Thank you. Both of you. But just because I am infatuated with someone doesn't mean I'll let him ride roughshod over me. My brain hasn't stopped working you know." Then, so soft he could barely hear her. "I'm not Mama."

Nick gritted his teeth and tugged her into a hug, ignoring the way the stall door bit into his rib cage. Up above, he could hear Joe scrambling for the ladder to get down from the hayloft. He hugged her tighter. "Tess I know. I know." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "I just want you safe and happy."

A slender arm snaked out around his back to return the embrace and he could feel the exhale as she huffed a bit of a laugh against his shirt. He felt more than saw Joe hovering awkwardly at his shoulder. "What an odd thing to say when we're gearing up for a war."

"...One conflict at a time Ricochet."

The hand on his back slapped at him blindly and he laughed. Then he shrieked, a very unmanly sound as Scratch took the opportunity to ruin the moment by sinking his large, square teeth into his forearm. Still making very embarrassing noises Nick tore his arm free, knocking Tessa in the head and stumbling back into Joe, taking them both to the floor. Somewhere in the stall Tessa was laughing, high and sweet, while her hell-beast's large head craned over the door, ears flipping ponderously floor like he was wondering what Nick was doing sprawled on his brother and holding his arm.

Nick hated him.

But Tess was still laughing as she popped up from under his neck, hanging awkwardly over the low door and taking in the sight of them. Joe was swearing he was going to skin the beast and Tessa was laughing harder, and Nick knew he was going to have a sizable welt on his forearm where Scratch had pinched his skin.

A smile still found a way onto his face.


	10. It Goes On and On

Hey guys! Sorry about the long time between updates, I am a little over two weeks out of open heart surgery (everything is progressing well!) and this is the first time I've felt like really doing anything other than watching Netflix so I hope you enjoy! That being said, I hope this chapter doesn't come out too disjointed; it was hard to get back into the swing of things, especially since I was trying to find the balance between sappy and serious. I hope its not too sappy. That being said, there are some hints to Vasquez's past, but they're very light hints since I haven't decided yet exactly what's going on. Also! The scene between Vas and Anthony is a deleted scene from the movie, and you can find it on YouTube. I'm so mad it was cut y'all, it gives him so much **depth _._** Anyway, enjoy, let me know if it was too sappy! Next chapter we get into the fight. God help me I have no idea how to write it.

* * *

 _"Laughter went on and on, like sunlight and stone, even if the human beings who laughed did not."_

Robin McKinley, **Chalice**

Vasquez rolled over in his bed and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape. Even with his shirt off the room was stifling, too still after all the nights he'd spent under the stars. Gavin David had given him a good deal on the room; he hadn't slept so well in a long time. But that night sleep was far from coming, and he was painfully aware of the hours passing. A rooster crowed every so often, but even that was half hearted and muted in the night. He'd heard Tessa's light tread pass by his room hours ago, and Faraday's snores had drowned out any other noises quickly.

Growling in frustration he sat up and wiped a hand down his face. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. The boards were rough under the soles of his feet.

 _She wants a man who won't leave_.

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

 _...good enough man. But he isn't good enough for you._

Finally he gave up on trying to sleep and padded as quietly as could across the creaking floor to rifle through his saddlebags. With a triumphant noise he pulled out the half empty bottle of whiskey he'd managed to save from Faraday.

 _Because he's an outlaw right?_

He took a long burning swallow of whiskey and shuddered as it settled into a pleasant warmth in his belly.

 _For an outlaw, Vasquez isn't, you know, a terrible person. He's just, like Nick said, not good enough for you_

A wry smile showed on his face as he planted his elbows on his knees, recalling all too easily the scene in the stables he'd stumbled onto.

 _...he could hurt you…_

He wanted to be angry. It had surged in him at first, curling his hands into fists at his sides, followed quickly by a burn of humiliation that he hadn't felt since-

 _"Hijo! No lo hagas!"_

They were right. He took another pull of whiskey and this time didn't shudder. That was the worst part. He was no good for her.

 _No puedes irte, no puedes hacernos esto!_

Vasquez glanced out the window into the dark. The stars twinkled their distant brightness at him and he sighed. It was a long time till sunrise.

* * *

Sam cast him sharp looks over breakfast but didn't try to figure out why he was so ill, a small favor for which Vasquez was grateful. A headache pounded behind his eyes but it wasn't his first hard morning, so he forced some water and food down his throat before getting to work in the the barn they had set up. Nick elected to work with one of the townsfolk rather than Vasquez that morning, fortifying the walls and support beams. He was in and out all morning. The schoolteachers boy took over his former station, attempting to peel the bark off a sapling.

Even through the pounding in his head Vasquez noticed the _mijo_ was just as bad at it as Nick, that _cabron_ , had been. With a sigh he set aside his own tool and moved carefully to urge the boy aside with a sharp noise. The _nino_ did as he instructed, eyes large and worshipful in his face. Vasquez shook himself demonstrated how to move the tool so it did most of the work. He nodded determinedly and did as the other instructed, glancing up at him for approval. Vasquez didn't know precisely what to do so he nodded to show he was doing well.

His shoulders burned as he set the massive screw in his hands to work boring the through the log, but he knew his work well enough to keep an eye on the _nino._ He couldn't place him. Why was he here and not with his mama?

"Where's your mother? I haven't seen you with her."

The boy kept his gaze on his work, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal, but his words cut Vasquez to the quick. "She died having me. It's only me and my father."

Vasquez cleared his throat, kept his eyes on his work. "He runs the school yes?"

The _nino_ scoffed under his breath but his answer was clear enough. "He ain't much good for nothing else."

Against his better judgement, Vasquez paused. "Why do you say it like that?"

"Cause he ain't." the _nino_ (he was nearly sure his name was Anthony or something like that) shot back defiantly. "I heard him talking to Mr. Stoner! Said he was afraid." The scorn for his own father was clear on his face and in his voice and Vasquez felt the events of the past day come crashing in. The throbbing in his head receded as he marched over to Anthony and snatched him by the ear, dragging him over to sit on the wagon, waiting to be filled with fresh-cut lumber.

"Sit down," he ordered sharply. "You think I am brave because I carry a gun? Hm?-"

"But I can help fight-"

"Shh! Your father is _braver_. He carries something greater than a gun. It is called responsibility, and he carries it for _you_ alone, all by himself! This responsibility is like a big rock that weighs a ton. It can kill a man. If he's not strong enough to bear it." His anger ebbed away leaving him exhausted and bitter than when he'd started. "I don't have the guts to be responsible for anyone but me. That's why I never had anything. That's why…"

Anthony gaped up at him, wide eyed and he couldn't bear to look at him anymore. "Just go. _Go._ " The boy scampered off, right on out of the barn and Vasquez leaned in the doorway, knocking a fist gently against his forehead. He should not have done that. He should not have said that.

 _"Qué estoy haciendo?_ " he muttered.

When he returned to his work everyone was carefully looking elsewhere, except there was Nick Newell, at Anthony's workstation, watching him with a unreadable expression. Vasquez barely suppressed a snarl of irritation. "I haven't even seen your sister today." he snapped peevishly, the throb in his head nearly unbearable. Nick looked down at the hat in his hands but didn't say anything. For a moment, he looked ashamed. Vasquez looked again, certain he was mistaken, but Nick didn't meet his gaze again.

"They're about to raise the bell in the church, Sam was wondering if you'd come help."

Oh. _"Si_ , I will go now."

The other nodded slowly and put his hat back on to go back out into the noontime sun. Vasquez followed quickly after and easily kept pace with the man, who was nearly of a height with him. Or maybe it was the other way around? To his surprise, Nick spoke.

"You look like you got hit with the wrong end of the bottle."

Vasquez eyed him suspiciously, but the pain wasn't getting any better. "Something like that." Nick still didn't look at him.

"Funny, didn't see you drink near as much as Faraday did last night."

...he's not good enough for you… Vasquez sneered at his bushy profile.

"Had trouble falling asleep." The words spilled out without his consent, even as the church came into sight. "I heard some interesting things in the stables last night."

Nick stopped dead in his tracks and Vasquez just kept going.

It was a good thing Nick didn't try to talk to him after that because Vasquez wasn't sure what he would have done if he had. As it was, he quickened his pace and left the other man where he stood in the street, and Sam spared a nod his way before turning to Joe to discuss something. For once, Tessa was not at his elbow, waving papers and eyes alight-

The sight of her didn't strike him, like in the stories his father used to tell about meeting his mother. She didn't take his breath away. But he steeled himself at the sight of her all the same, arms folded and weight held back on one heel, watching the proceedings with a gentle expression. She hadn't seen him yet, but he found himself wondering what she'd do when she noticed him. Vasquez shook his head slowly and walked into the church.

He had work to do.

* * *

Between all the menfolk they got the bell raised. Joe provided a running commentary that kept their spirits high, and in spite of himself Vasquez couldn't help but laugh at him. Neither of the Newell men knew much about carpentry, (or general upkeep) but they were good men in a crisis. Even Nick cracked a smile or two at his brothers antics. The metal was black with soot under his hands as he helped to raise the bell, but it was still sound and Vasquez proudly watched it rise under the combined power of all the men. Somewhere outside the church the clear, bright sound of Tessa's laughter sounded, followed by Faraday's voice raised in response.

"At least someone is happy in all this."

Vasquez felt more than saw Nick look at Sam as they exited the church to find Tessa and Faraday arguing loudly about something. Strange woman. Tessa looked delighted to be fighting with someone and Rocks was shaking his head, an amused tilt to his mouth. Faraday leaned in close and said something he couldn't hear. Tessa froze, only to tilt her head to the side, eyes narrowed. Nick started laughing. The preacher shot him a concerned glance but Vasquez and Sam exchanged a knowing look. Whatever was going to happen was bound to be entertaining. They all watched (Nick just laughed harder) Tessa abruptly grapple Faraday, twist his arm sharply and lever him to the ground, with said man looking confused the whole way down. Sam laughed like he was surprised he still could and Vasquez shook his head.

" _Mujer loca._ "

"Si." Sam chuckled.

And then Red Harvest came riding in, trailing a plume of fine dust behind his horse. He dismounted easily and went straight for Sam, speaking his own language, a clatter of sharp syllables. Sam's face had dropped its smile as soon as he'd come riding in, but it quickly grew unreadable as he listened carefully. Nick had stopped laughing.

The bell rang as the Comanche finished speaking and Vasquez fought not to shiver at the sound. Chance, nothing more, made the bell sound (well that and the school teacher) but he crossed himself anyway. Sam looked away and down without speaking. Everyone watched him, waiting to see what he would say. They all knew, Vasquez knew too, but they waited anyway to hear him confirm what they all were thinking.

"He's coming. Be here at dawn."

* * *

There was not a lot of talking during dinner. True to form Faraday drank, but with a lot less laughter and much more silence. Goody and Billy didn't speak, they ate and smoked and Horne looked down at his plate, ate like he didn't see what was on it, and didn't care anyway. Sam was miles away, lost somewhere in his own head. He wasn't sure where the Indian was, but he never took to the food anyway, so that wasn't surprising. Tessa, Nick, and Joe murmured softly to one another, sharp lines of worry in their faces. For the first time since the siblings had stepped foot in Rose Creek they acutally looked like they were going to war. For his part Vasquez managed to eat, though the food tasted like dust.

The three were the first to get up, but they didn't go far, moving out onto the Elysium's porch. Tessa had a hand on each of them, one gripping Nick's wrist, the other tucked into the crook of Joe's arm. The two men didn't seem to mind, and let themselves be herded out into the dark. Vasquez didn't watch them go. The whole moment seemed intensely private, something he should not be seeing, even if all he saw was their backs.

"Awful young for this sort of fight." Horne said suddenly. Since no one else seemed inclined Vas gave a questioning grunt.

"Them, I mean. Red Harvest too." He nodded to the darkened doorway. "Too young to have been in the war, but not old enough for this."

"They chose to be here." Sam addressed his plate in a measured way.

"True enough," Horne nodded slowly. Sam cut him off before he could speak again.

"We all did. It seems to me we're lucky to get to choose where we might die."

"I didn't." Faraday snorted. "I pay off my horse yet Sam?"

"So far so good."

A half-hearted chuckle rippled around the table and it seemed to set Robicheaux off; he jerked up and away from the table with a clatter. He grimaced politely at them and muttered something about needing a bit of air before taking the back way out. Billy hesitated a moment before quietly going after him. Their plates were half empty and Vasquez wondered idly if it would be poor form to finish them. He wasn't hungry per say, but you never knew where the next meal might come from, if it came at all.

The air seemed to leave the room at that and Faraday cleared his throat sharply and went out on the porch where Vasquez could hear the Newell's talking softly. A half full bottle of whiskey dangled from his fingers and Vasquez shook his head. If the _guero_ made it to morning without drinking himself to death it would be a miracle. Horne nodded to himself and scraped the last of his meal off his plate before he excused himself as well. That left Sam and Vasquez. Sam stared down at his plate, and Vasquez gave up the ghost and lit his cigar. He exhaled a long cloud of fragrant smoke into the air.

"You ready for this my friend?" he asked.

"I…" he hesitated, something Vasquez never thought he would see. "I reckon so. Man can choose to run or die. Running ain't gonna stop death from coming for him though, so I believe I'll face mine straight. If it comes to that."

The words touched a chord in him, a guitar string being plucked and as he pulled in a deep lungful of smoke, he briefly touched the pendant at his throat. " _Creo que entiendo lo que quieres decir._ " Sam surprised him by nodding like he agreed before he pushed away from the table and he left Vasquez wondering just how much the man understood. Low strains of conversation drifted through the doorway, interrupted by a low chuckle from Faraday. The lone man at the empty table released one more long cloud of smoke before he pushed away from the table and walked outside.

It was an odd picture that greeted him. Nick and Joe sitting on the edge of the porch, Tessa leaning back against a post with a pad of paper on her knees. He thought she was writing (that had been her near constant state as long as he'd known her) but she didn't make the right gestures to be writing. Instead, when he looked closer he realized the smudges on her paper were drawings, graceful black lines that he couldn't quite make out in the low lamp light. Faraday probably couldn't see them either but that didn't stop him from pestering her to "get his good side", while Horne shook his head at the younger man's antics. Red Harvest flanked the other side of the doorway and Vasquez paused minutely to give him a nod. To his surprise the other nodded back.

He found a pillar of his own to lean against and listened to the townspeople sing a hymn. The sky was large enough to swallow the sound, but that didn't stop him from losing himself in the music for a moment. Slow and solemn, the song, a song of redemption and blood and sacrifice, (which was a little on the nose for his tastes) bled away into the night and the preacher began to preach.

"They're good people." Joe said suddenly. Nick grunted quietly in response. It might have been a question.

"As good as any." Tessa's dark hair gave off a faint shine as she tipped her head to the side in a gesture that Vasquez already knew meant she was thinking. She inhaled sharply as if she would go on, but then she bent over her art again.

"Well go on and finish." The words left his mouth before he thought about them and all three Newell's turned to look at him. He chomped on his cigar, cursing at himself internally. He had not meant to say anything to any of them. Without their hats they did look as young as Horne seemed to think they were, and he saw Tessa smile crookedly.

"It wasn't anything important."

"Well now I'm curious," Faraday drawled.

"Sounds like a nice change from being confused." Vasquez snickered in spite of himself.

"You ought to be nicer to me, we might all be dead tomorrow." Faraday replied insolently.

"I believe being nice means being honest." This time it was Horne who cracked a smile while Nick coughed loudly into his hand.

"You're a hard woman Tessa Newell." Faraday slouched into the wall and pouted like a child.

"Oh my heart bleeds buttermilk for you Faraday."

The _guero_ opened his mouth to reply, looking deeply insulted but nothing came out. Vasquez craned around his post to see the tail end of Goody's mare as he road out of town. His stomach sank somewhere to his knees at the sight and he heard Tessa gasp softly. He felt more than heard Nick growl. The sniper rode past the townsfolk as the preacher closed in prayer and Sam stepped wearily up onto the porch.

"Where's Billy?" he asked, searching their faces.

"I believe he has started to drink." Horne replied.

"Alright," Sam nodded almost to himself. "Anybody else want to leave, now's the time. No one will hold no ill will towards you."

Vasquez tapped his cigar against his palm thoughtfully. "What about you?"

"I...I believe I'm going to see this through. These people deserve their lives back."

"I have nowhere else to go, so...I'm in." He smiled at his own words. Who would have thought?

"I knew tomorrow was gonna be a dark day, but now there's one less of us, it's gonna be darker." Horne looked at each face as if searching for something. "But...to be in the service of others, with men -and women- that I respect...like you all...Well I shouldn't have to ask for more than that."

"We're staying." To his surprise it was Nick who spoke for his siblings. He went on gruffly. "Wouldn't be right to leave these people. We know what might come, we're as ready as anybody can be I think."

"We hope." Joe corrected. He smiled a smile that the darkness couldn't dim. "Anyway, after all the work we put into this, I'm not going anywhere."

"Same." said Tessa firmly.

Sam looked at them intently and nodded once before heading off to the church. Faraday cut and shuffled his deck and they all watched him go. An unexpected voice broke the silence. "I'm hungry."

They froze and almost as one swiveled to eye the Comanche. While Horne sputtered in surprise Tessa cackled and slapped at Faraday's knee. "Pay up, I told you he could speak English!"

"Wait you _knew_?"

 _"Hijole de la chingada,_ " Vasquez swore.

"I suspected," she laughed and held out her hand expectantly. Scowling, Faraday dropped some money into her palm.

"You little sh** !." Horne laughed, and followed the Comanche inside, demanding an explanation. Tessa did the same, still laughing up into the _guero's_ face. Faraday made grumbling noises like he was angry but Vasquez saw him smiling. He was grinning himself as he followed; he didn't even mind that Nick and Joe were right behind him, muttering to each other.

Their priorities were certainly strange, Vasquez concluded. Gringos. You'd think they'd care more about their sister possibly dying than who showed an interest in her. Vasquez shook his head and walked behind the bar to pour himself another drink. Gavin probably wouldn't mind, there were bigger things to worry about. Nick and Joe closed in on Faraday and Tessa and wedged their way between the two.

 _Gringos locos y autoritarios_ , he thought and knocked back his drink.


	11. Not Done, Not Dead, Not Yet

Y'all. _Y'all._

My first battle scene! Holy crap I can't believe I did it! I worked really hard on this chapter, so I hope you guys like it! *ducks and hides* Sorry about the cliffhanger?

But seriously, if anything is utterly incoherent, **let me know** , because I want to fix it. No doubt I'll be tweaking and editing as time goes by anyway.

Thanks to Dalonega Noquisi for your review, and Sam0728...the time has come!

Enjoy, and Hermes out~!

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 _"One day all of us will die but-and this is the important thing-we are not dead yet."_

Terry Prachett, **I Shall Wear Midnight**

 _Concentrate on your breathing_.

In on the count of four, release on the count of seven. The trench was cloying, smelling of sweat and the rank stench of fear. Tessa breathed anyway. _In-two-three-four_ , and one slow breath out. Some men muttered back and forth, voices shaking but no one gave them a hard time. They were all afraid. Someone was reciting a quiet prayer down the line.

She was acutely aware of her own heartbeat in her chest, _in-two-three-four,_ of how her pulse struggled to race, but she didn't let it. Adrenaline would be no good in the fight, it would serve only to make her sloppy. She pressed one palm to the rough boards, cool even in the stifling space and let the rough sensation ground her. _There is only this right now. Let there be only this._

The bell began to sound.

 _In-two-three-four-Exhale-In-two-three-four._

Someone tried to play a harmonica, but they were quickly silenced. Tessa half wished he _would_ play. A nice distraction from the oppressive silence in the trench. She could hear teeth chattering somewhere down the line. She clenched her own before she forced herself to relax.

The drumming against her back as what seemed like a hundred horses rode down the valley floor disrupted her count somewhat and she felt more than heard the others in the trench stir uneasily. Tessa looked up at Billy and his eyes touched hers briefly. He nodded once, just slightly. Her stomach clenched hard with dread. Her jars were going to do their work soon; she was almost glad Goodnight wasn't there to see them blow.

The horses were close enough that she could hear their riders whooping. _How can men cheer when they go to kill?_ she wondered wildly for a moment before she wrestled her thoughts under control.

"Mask up." She pulled the tattered remains of her red scarf up over her face. (Nick and Joe had the rest. _"If this ends badly, these are how we can find what's left."_ )

They were close enough that she could make out individual words, blood chilling snatches of conversation they shouted at one another. Billy counted, quietly. To her right, the man shook so hard she wondered how he didn't shake to pieces. Her own hands shook in sympathy, and Tessa willed stillness. ... _In-two-three-four..._

"Five." They shuffled so they sat against the opposite wall.

"Four." Peter Gall's (nice man, worked in the livery Joe is by the livery supposed to be in the steeple what if he-) breath was rasping loud in her left ear.

"Three." By now some of the riders had split to head to mining camp. Faraday hadn't set his charges off yet. ( _-Nick is in the mining camp he doesn't have any cover how can he-)_

"Two." A cold sweat broke over her body.

"One!"

She knew it was coming. Billy counted, but the concussive blast rocked her back against the rough wall. It deafened her, followed quickly by another blast that drowned out the screams. The air smelled like gunpowder and kerosene. Ears ringing, heart pounding, shoulders tense with adrenaline, she forced herself to breathe and loosened her grip on her rifle. Somewhere, the distant part of her brain not in shock catalogued what she heard, what she felt and smelled. Horses were screaming, men were screaming...

They waited to the count of ten, the most unbearable ten seconds of her life. Then sunlight flooded he trench and her body acted without her. She raised the rifle, sighting through the smoke ( _-why am I in the trench I'm not that good a shot-_ ) and flames and firing quickly. Her man fell off his wheeling mount and she picked off another. The gun jerked against her shoulder but the pain didn't even register.

 _Empty the chamber, reload, in-two-three-four-_

Tessa let Peter Gall pull her up out of the trench and drew her pistol, shot the man who would have shot him and they followed Billy into the fray. She drew her long knife with her free hand as she went and drove it into the stomach of her next opponent. Sickening warmth flooded her hand and wrist.

Men were dying all around her, the acrid scent of smoke mixing with the tang of blood. A man came rushing up on her left, but Peter Gall took him down before he got closer. She nodded at him briefly and rushed one of the few men still on a horse. With a twist and a heave that made her shoulders burn she tipped him off his horse and Peter shot him.

Peter twitched and fell, brown eyes wide with surprise.

Tessa let the horse go and lunged for Peter's killer, teeth bared in a rictus of rage. Three bullets in his stomach and her gun was empty. She tossed it aside with a grimace and pulled out her push dagger. Three men rushed her, but Billy dropped them.

"Tessa come on!"

She swung, slashed and stabbed. The smoke stung her eyes and maybe she was crying, but surely it was just the smoke. A Blackstone pointed his rifle squarely at Jack Horne's back and before she knew what she was doing Tessa hurled her knife desperately, catching him in the shoulder. _Lucky shot_. His scream of shock drew Jack's attention and the big man finished him off, quoting Psalm 23.

"Behind you!" He managed to bellow in his reedy voice.

She spun and drove her push dagger once, twice, three times into a man's chest, and pulled a little more blood from him each time. He fell, and Tessa was gone before he moved on, but not before she yanked his gun from his belt. The windmill exploded as she lined up her first shot, courtesy of two of her kerosene jars and Tessa whooped (or screamed), pure terror and exultation coursing through her.

The pistol was full, six shots exiting the chamber smoothly, dropped six men. Tessa lost count after that, hot on Billy's heels as he bolted back for town. The dynamite shed exploded as they did, more men and horses screaming. She dodged a bucking horse, but managed to keep her feet. The ground was lost, they'd done what they could. She lost Billy in the melee, when he swung around and fired as he fell through the air.

Tessa paused, breathless behind the restaurant and took stock of her situation. _-Where is Joe where is Billy where is Nick_ -. She forced herself to breathe. No guns, one knife gone, she had her push daggers, but unless she wanted to waste valuable time and energy killing each and every man by hand-

Sam Chisolm rode up and forced his _godd** horse_ through the back of the restaurant like it was a viable option. Shrieking, breathless, Tessa dove into his wake. Blood from his poor horse, splinters of wood and broken glass littered the floor, she burst out onto the street just in time to see Chisolm shoot a man in the face. Grinning triumphantly she turned and covered him as he trampled a man beneath his horses hooves.

"Head for the church!" he ordered and rode off.

She did. She tried. Three men in the street, one man in the alley between McClay's Boarding House and the grocers-her gun clicked hollow, the cylinders whirling on empty. The Blackstone grinned. _-I'm going to die, Nick, Joe...-_

"Tessie!"

A gunshot nearly deafened her left ear as Joe took aim over her shoulder and dropped the man who tried to shoot her. She grinned up at him, fiercely happy to see him alive and followed willingly when he grabbed her hand and towed her to the church. Past the school, past the Elysium and the _-there's Nick, there's Nick!-_ a Blackstone lunged from an alley and Tessa didn't think, yanking her hand from Joe's grasp and neatly punching his throat with her push dagger in hand. Arterial blood sprayed over her face and Tessa instinctively slammed her eyes shut. Familiar hands dragged her away, hastily dragged a cloth smelling sharply of sweat and gunpowder over her face.

"Open your eyes Tessie!"

Copper spread across her tongue as she licked her lips, but it was a futile gesture, she couldn't muster enough saliva to clean them, or to spit the taste from her mouth. It was like hell, and the smell...Tessa scavenged another gun from the dead (. _..their dead **my** dead…_) and covered Joe as they made their way to the church. They tried, they tried.

"Get those wagons out, light 'em up!" Wagons jutted out around the church settling between the barriers they'd erected, closing off any escape routes there.

What Blackstone's remained on horses began to circle and Nick's face was awash with terror as he dragged his siblings into the Elysium. She scanned him quickly to see if he was hurt _(why is he making that face?)_ and turned to Joe, who was looking green himself.

"You're supposed to be in the church!" she shrieked at him furiously.

"I was, I saw you run in!" he shouted back, eyes wide with panic.

"You're more use in the _steeple_ _you idiot_!"

"I-oh."

"This is great and all but could you two shut up and shoot before we all die?!" one of the townsfolk shouted sarcastically.

Tessa slapped open the cylinder of her stolen gun and swore. "Three shots. Nick, we've got to get him to the church."

Her brothers eyes, so similar to her own, blazed, but he nodded, and drew two pistols from his belt. "Lets go."

She grinned, well aware she looked something like a monster, and they swung back out into the fray. Men on horseback made easy targets. Tessa dropped on, tucked and rolled to his body while dodging his horses hooves and grabbed his rifle. She cocked it and emptied the chamber. Smiled when she saw it was a repeater.

"Go Joseph!" she roared and fired point blank at the man attempting to ride her down. The impact knocked him off his horse. She spun around, slammed the butt of her rifle square into another's face, and slashed at his neck before he could get back up. Chisolm swam into her view.

"Joe's got to get to the church!" she cried, hoping like hell he could hear her over the pitch of battle.

He didn't look at her, sighting down the barrel of his rifle and dropping more Blackstones heading their way. Tessa spat a curse and wheeled to the do the same. She saw Joe ( _his hats gone the sun will get in his eyes_ ) sprinting for the church, and miracle of miracles, Vasquez and Faraday were covering him from their end of the kill zone, dropping anyone who sought to stop him. Nick was halfway, brawling in the street; he'd gotten Joe halfway there. A triumphant war cry rose up without her consent and she fired again, catching a Blackstone in the chest. A man half dead in the dirt tried to shoot her but she kicked the gun from his hand and brought her rifle's butt sharply down on his skull

The blood abruptly froze in her veins as a sound like she'd never heard came from behind her. A body thudded into the dirt next to her and she spun, badly startled and fully exposed to see Goodnight riding into the middle of town, firing ( _hit them every time_ ) at a full gallop. He reined in his mare sharply, voice a rasping scream: "They've got the Devil's Breath! They've got a _goddamned gatling gun_!"

A high, whining keen clawed its way out of her throat and her knees threatened to give way. Goodnight looked right at her, held out a hand. "Get on girl!" He hauled her up behind him with surprising strength and kicked his horse into a gallop, screaming a warning the whole way. The horse navigated the fallen with ease, she shot the survivors, or tried to, she was no Goodnight. As the rode she caught a familiar shape was stretched out on the street and Tessa's heart stopped. (- _no no no no no-)_

"It's a gatling gun get inside, get inside, get inside!"

Tessa half leapt half tumbled from the mare's sweat dark back, still clutching her rifle. Vasquez's eyes met hers for only a moment and widened with horror even as he turned away to keep shooting. "Get inside chiquita!"

"You get inside you stupid Mexican!" she shouted wildly back and bolted forward to meet a Blackstone before he could get closer. She was out of bullets again, and caught his jaw in a wide swing with the butt of her rifle. Another gunshot sounded off behind her and a rough hand snatched the collar of her shirt and hauled her into the blackened ruins of the church, punctuated by angry Spanish. Tessa watched dumbly, had enough time to see the wooden walls of the church spontaneously spit chips of wood _(-bullets, those are bullets-_ ), and she stumbled as her right leg abruptly stopped working.

"¡Baja a Tessa- _Ah!_ " Vasquez fell down over her, yelping and pinning her to the floor. His mouth was just by her ear, voice guttural with pain. "Stay down, stay down!

If she'd had any breath to spare she would have told him she wasn't going anywhere. As it was, the breath had been knocked from her lungs by the sheer weight of him, and anyway, he probably wouldn't be able to hear her over the gatling gun. Her side and leg were burning, a persistent sprawl of heat spreading from her wounds. It didn't hurt until Vasquez rolled off her, grinding her thigh into the wooden boards and Tessa's eyes rolled in her head, white spreading over her vision.

"Tessa? Tess-Dios mío, estás sangrando, ¿cómo lograste esto?" Someone pulled her so she laid on her back.

"They're reloading, stay down!"

Had the gatling gun stopped?

Tessa blinked her way back to sight, breath tinny and whistling in her ears. Y _ou're hyperventilating you stupid girl,_ the working part of her brain pointed out, but she wasn't able to stop. Vasquez's face swam into view, punctuated by black spots dancing in front of his face. He was saying something but he might well have been talking in Spanish for all she understood him. She tried to tell him she needed a tourniquet on her leg-

A wave of agony swamped her, and Tessa screamed-or she thought she did? Distantly she understood what was happening as Vasquez lifted her left to get whatever cloth he'd managed to scrounge up under her thigh, she felt the pressure as he pulled it tight. All of that was a distant second to the pain of her leg being moved. _Tendon must have been cut, or a hamstring?_ Tessa tried to arch away from the pain only to stop herself as the bullet just under her shoulder made itself known.

"Is she hit? Oh sh** she is!"

"Put pressure on it!"

"I _am putting pressure on it_ cabron."

"The children!"

"Go, go on!"

"Come on Billy!"

 _Get up girl don't be deadweight._

Tessa forced her eyes open and met Vasquez's worried stare with a grimace. "Help prop me up I can shoot." That might have been a lie, but the tourniquet was tied and someone pushed her into a sitting position so they could get at her shoulder. Vas shot her an incredulous glance as he stood and directed the others into position. "I can!" she insisted. "We need every-" Whoever was working on her back pressed exactly wrong and she cut herself off with an embarrassingly high pitched sound. Tessa shook her head, dizzy.

"Put me at a window, I'll put my weight on my good leg."

"You'll fall over you crazy woman." he retorted, but then, to the person behind her said, "Here let me take her." He got a grip under her armpits and dragged her upright. The pain from her leg was bad and her shoulder clamoured loudly for attention, but she stayed conscious this time, even if her head swam. With effort she refocused, and declared hotly up into his bemused face:

"Yeah, but I'll get off a good shot before I do. I'm not dead, so I'm not done."

Of course, the effect was somewhat ruined when she swayed on the spot, pain lancing up into her groin as the ruined muscles of her thigh protested. Tessa pressed her lips together sharply but Vasquez wasn't fooled. He made a sharp, exasperated noise between his teeth but his hands were gentle as he helped situate her in a kneeling position. Tessa hissed when he accidentally pressed on her shoulder wound. He was right, she wasn't able to brace herself and when she cocked the blood spattered rifle she recalled she had no bullets.

"You are a _ridiculous-_ give me that." He plucked the rifle easily from her grip and handed her one of his pistols. He took a shot out the window. "They're coming get ready!"

"Oh and here I thought you liked me." She aimed to be charming but the words came out more breathless than she would have liked. Tessa squirmed into a better position and took careful aim. It took a lot more effort than it should have. Vas turned back to her and she noticed for the first time the blood staining his shirt.

"Like has nothing to do with it chiquita, I've never met a woman so crazy as you."

"Good to know," she gasped and sagged against the sandbags.

The gatling gun chattered again and Vasquez was suddenly on her again, smelling strongly of sweat and blood and gunpowder as he pressed her into the sandbags. ( _-I probably don't smell too good myself-_ ) There was a grunt and audible thump as someone didn't get down quickly enough. Somehow her fingers found their way into his shirtsleeve. She hoped it wasn't his bad arm. There were men outside shouting, but the gun was quiet, and Vas came out of his protective crouch.

"Ammo, andele!"

"I've got four shots," Tessa panted, and watched the preacher press a handful of bullets into Vas's hand.

"And this is all we've got." said the man.

Tessa made a decision. "If you can use your other arm here," she said quickly and held out the gun he'd given her. "You're a better shot than I am and I think I'm going to pass out."

The look he shot her was nothing short of alarmed but he took the gun, and handed her the loose bullets. "Stay awake long enough to reload this eh?"

"I'll try." She wanted to be witty at that moment (dying with anything less than sass was simply unacceptable) but the words came out in a reedy whisper and she wondered distantly how much blood she had lost. She clenched the shells in her fist and reloaded them with trembling fingers. Another pair of hands, bloodstained, (- _the preacher, he must have patched my-_ ) worked with hers to load the chambers.

"Five bullets." he told Vas, as the other fired. Somewhere in the steeple Goodnight was loosing that haunting yawp of a war cry.

"Plenty to shoot out there preacher!" He took the pistol and fired off three shots in quick succession. Then he was up, bolting out the door and into the firefight, shouting something about a guerito and a cabron, urging them to go.

"Ride, Faraday, ride!"

And Tessa heard her brother's voice, from up in the steeple.

" _Go Nick!_ "

. _..Like we're at a sports game…_ she thought vaguely. Why was Joe cheering for Nick? Hadn't she seen-

"Miss are you alright?"

"...thas' a st'pid ques'ion." she slurred up at the blurry preacher.

"I-"

The steeple was peppered with bullets and Tessa knew a moment of breathless fear that dragged her back into full consciousness. Joe was in the steeple. It was a futile gesture that had her struggling to stand. The preacher, bless his soul, was trying to keep her down when they both froze at the sound of the belfry crackling and crashing. A body slid off the roof. She saw it fall through the window and tattered boards.

"Joe, Joe-No.." she tried dizzily to fight off the hands that held her, but she was cold and weak.

They held her down. Spots were dancing on the ceiling...


	12. Aftermath

It occurs to me you guys might be getting bored? I hope not! I'm not trying to be slow, honest, this is just the way the story is going. I'm flinching back from writing grief, because I'm more attached to some characters than others, so like, I get secondhand embarrassment or a case of the feels.

Anyway, I did a LOT of research into the Comanche history and belief system and all that, and it's like the foundation that built this chapter. Not so many facts, but to help me characterize and write Red Harvest, I had to really study. So, there are no Comanche phrases or anything, because I am not touching an non-Latin-based language with a ten foot pole. I'm restricted to English, Spanish, and French y'all, so bear with me.

The hardest part of writing this chapter was finding the balancing act between Red Harvest being distinctly other and him knowing he is an outsider, and him being a human being who has compassion on these people and wants to help. So like, let me know what you think of how I'm writing him, because he's such a cool character and should be well represented.

Also I researched both mules _and_ horses, for this, and...like is this chapter pointless y'all? I like it, I think it's important, but I don't know how or why it's important. Ah the joys of writing.

 **Finally, you'll find out some of the names of the dead. We aren't going to see Tessa's reaction until chapter 13. God help me.**

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 _"Battle is gruesome, but it is vigorous, alive._

 _The aftermath is the worst of it;_

 _adrenaline fades, quiet sweeps in,_

 _and there's nothing to distract you from the mess of bodies and churned earth."_

-Darrell Drake, A Star-Reckoner's Lot

The street was a nightmare. Even after the initial confusion and hurry of gathering the wounded, there was still much to do. Blood soaked the dirt, the copper scent mingling with the piss and other leavings from dead men. Flies had already started to swarm the dead. A horse occasionally picked it's way through the carnage, or tried to, the whites of their eyes showing in the high flung heads. Most of the horses were collected by Red Harvest, who knew horses better than he knew people. There was one who refused to come to him though, and did not let him near.

The mule, that ragged and scarred beast. Red Harvest had seen all manner of horses, every shape and size, and he was familiar with the donkeys white farmers favored for smaller projects. He had been given to understand that mules were the best of both horse and donkey. This mule was clearly the worst of both. He had heard Tessa call him Scratch. He had seen how she cared for him, the easy trust between the two, and his aggression towards anything that wasn't her. The large animal lowered his head and flicked large ears forward, clearly inspecting him.

His instincts were rarely wrong, and they were telling him to be very still.

Scratch didn't seem concerned with the dead, or the flies, or even the buzzards that had started circling, no matter how fast the surviving townspeople worked to gather the bodies. He stepped with care around them, over them even, but the whites around his eyes were gradually shrinking, It was a dangerous animal that could adjust to bloodshed like that. Red Harvest felt he could respect that.

Still, he had to get the animal out of the street. He was too violent, and he would get in the way, since he refused to flee like the horses had done. Tessa couldn't remove him. Two men had carried her between them into the doctor's house some time ago. She had been an unsettling shade of white -even for a white person- and the bandage on her thigh was soaked with blood. There were so many wounded, many worse than her to be seen by the one doctor, he wasn't certain she'd live long enough to get good medicine.

His mind strayed to his ration bag, tucked safely away in his buffalo hide. He'd packed it while he was out scouting with all the good herbs he could find, things like snakebite medicine, buffalo plant, yarrow, and more. He could use them. He could help.

If he could just get Scratch to yield.

Red Harvest took a step forward.

Scratch took a step back.

The knowledge that people were dying while he danced with this foolish animal itched between his shoulder blades and Red Harvest fought to keep his body relaxed. If mules were anything like horses, they would pick up on his stance, on how he walked, and react. Scratch's nostrils flared inquiringly, and an idea struck the Comanche. He sighed through his nose. How could he not have thought of that before?

Stepping quickly and quietly through the ruined street he ducked into the livery and picked up a few withered apples, a rope and halter, and a lump of salt. No one was there to tell him he didn't belong or that he had no right, and he returned to where he had left Scratch, breathing a silent prayer of thanks to the creator that the stubborn animal had not wandered off. Scratch's ears flicked back, and then forward again, and Red Harvest took a large bite of the apple.

!

 _The woman tossed him an apple underhanded and smiled at him. Red Harvest looked down at it in surprise, and with no small amount of suspicion. But it was just a normal apple, firm and sweet smelling and a nice rich red, if a little on the small side. Had she really noticed he hadn't been eating?_

 _!_

Scratch's head picked up at the audible crunch of food and he took a step forward, curiosity in every line of is body. Red Harvest held out the apple and looked away. He could feel him hesitate. The animal was proving to be smarter than most horses, and much more suspicious. If he'd had more _time…_

The Comanche felt more than saw Scratch move, stepping carefully forward and nudging at the fruit. His neck was fully extended, the mule kept his body away. The apple was taken, teeth scraping across the ball of his thumb, but Red Harvest refused to flinch. Very slowly he transferred the other apple to the same hand. Scratch stepped closer. The second apple followed the first and in one smooth move he slipped the halter over the mule's large head. It was pure luck that it fit, and Scratch stiffened, eyes flashing white and lips rippling. Quick as a cat Red Harvest slipped a little salt into his lower lip and over the bottom row of teeth.

Scratch stopped, lips and tongue working furiously. He was distracted enough that Red Harvest was able to lead him to the corral. He would be alone with other animals, but at least the townspeople could get on with their duties. As he shut the gate the mule thrust his large head over the top beam, as if asking how he had come to be here. Knowing he needed to be respectful of the beasts teeth Red Harvest slid the halter back down off his head, stroking quick and light, just once, down his rough forehead as he did so. Scratch's large ears flicked back, forward, back again, and finally relaxed. He nodded to himself, considering.

Red Harvest hung the halter back where he'd found it and detoured to retrieve his ration bag. He would go find Sam. If anyone could convince the white people that one of the Numunu could help, it was him. If his path was going anywhere, he had a feeling it was going to be alongside Sam Chisolm's

* * *

The doctor was too busy trying to keep his companions alive to bother with Red Harvest. The front room of his office -so Sam had called it- was overflowing with the wounded, in different states of pain and alertness. Some men groaned like they were dying. Some men truly were dying. Women of the town moved among them, giving water and bandaging what they could, but until the doctor came there was nothing they could do. He looked at his ration bag and privately wondered if such a small thing could make a difference.

He didn't notice the elder at first, but the boards behind him creaked and Red Harvest quickly turned to meet startlingly light blue eyes. He would never get used to the paleness of such eyes. The person they belonged to was one of the town elders, stoop-backed with age but his hands were still steady.

"Are you wounded young man?"

He plainly wasn't. But Red Harvest lifted the flap on his ration bag to show him the herbs he had collected only yesterday. The elder's blue eyes lit up in delight.

"Ah! Yarrow, I see, and greenbriar, and buffalo weed! This will help. My stores have been depleted already. Will you help me mix these? I have other herbs in store of course, but fresh is best-" Somehow Red Harvest found himself following the elder out into the street again, and unthinkingly offered his arm so he could make it safely down the steps. The other barely paused for breath to thank him, clutching his forearm and setting off more quickly than Red Harvest would have thought possible. "-we'll need teas to strengthen the blood and poultices to draw the infection from the wounds. Not to mention we'll need to make-Ah, what is your name young man?"

"...Red Harvest."

"Ben Truebill, town apothecary." Sharp blue eyes twinkled up at him briefly, but the light suddenly died. "This is my shop," he waved a hand at the building they stopped at. "I underestimated just how many wounded there were going to be. I have to get more medicine. Do you know any of your peoples remedies that might help? We need all the help we can get and quickly."

The shop smelled comforting, after the massacre out in the streets, like herbs and green things growing. Red Harvest quickly took in the rows of boxes lining the wall and the shelves full of bottles as they passed through the front room and into the back. There he understood. This was where the elder mixed his medicines. Bowls, and pestles and mortars for grinding littered every flat surface. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling and plants, herbs for good medicine were carefully tended and sitting in pools of sunlight. The carnage outside had not touched this place.

"Some." he finally said.

Ben Truebill nodded. "Then get to work. We'll need things to staunch the blood and tea's to replenish the blood that was lost and much more besides. You can use anything in here you want, but if you need something I don't have, I'm afraid you'll have to go find it yourself. I'm not as young as I used to be and my apprentice is-" The elder coughed, voice growing rough. Tears glittered in his eyes and he made no effort to hide them as he smiled weakly at Red Harvest. "-I mean he was the one to go and gather new herbs for me."

"I understand."

The others shoulders straightened and lifted his chin proudly. "Good, good. I'm going back to Dr. Hinz's office with some more medicine. Hopefully we won't lose any more today." With that the elder limped back out into the front room, and Red Harvest could hear him rustling about, muttering to himself about what was where and what it did. He looked down at his ration bag and carefully tipped it's contents onto the largest table so he could begin.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent in and out of the apothecary and Dr. Hinz's office, forcing medicine down gasping throats, changing bandages and applying poultices to encourage broken flesh to mend. Of the few of his companions that had survived, Goodnight was the worst off, having fallen off the roof after getting shot. Until he woke up -if he woke up- the doctor couldn't tell if his back was broken or not. Rocks was a close second, he'd taken fire too, but not as much as he could have if not for Joe Newell. They'd found the young sharpshooter dead, and Rock's breathing. He'd died shooting, and had taken most of the bullets in the doing. Both Goodnight and Rocks were alive because of him.

Faraday wasn't as bad as the other two. He'd taken several shots, but Nick Newell had shielded him from most of the explosion. Vasquez had found Faraday senseless, but alive, under what was left of Nick. Red Harvest had seen Tessa earlier and was the one to tend her leg and shoulder. Of all of them, she would be back on her feet first, but the blood loss kept her down and sliding in and out of the waking world. She still didn't know her brothers had died. He'd left the widow Cullen with a tea from Ben, and instructions to give it to her every time she woke.

There had been no chance of saving Horne though. Red Harvest had collected the old trackers body himself.

It was long after dark when Sam pulled him aside. He pointed to the doctor, slumped at his desk, and Ben Truebill, fast asleep on a spare pallet (some could not be saved) and told Red Harvest it was time to eat and rest. The women could take it from here, and someone would be woken up if any of the patients got any worse. He cast a glance at the sleeping forms, lit by a few candles here and there and nodded slowly. He _was_ hungry.

Sam led him to the battered remains Elysium where most of his companions had been staying. Someone had been hard at work while he had been healing, sweeping up the broken glass and setting tables and chairs back up right. There was no covering up all the damage with a single days work, but a tired woman smiled at him and gave him a plate of food. Red Harvest was tired enough that he ate it all. Vasquez nodded at him, weariness in every line of his body, even as he numbly shoved food into his mouth.

Red Harvest ate two plates of food. He hadn't realized until that moment just how hungry he was. Sam didn't eat. He sat at the table and stared down at the glass in his hand but didn't drink it. They sat that way for a long time. He was used to silence of course, he'd been in his own company for a long time. But the silence at the table was heavy and thick. Just when he thought he'd have to leave -he was tired too- the widow Cullen walked in.

She sat without asking and nodded at each of them. Sam looked at her closely and slid his glass over to her. Her eyes flickered around the table, but she shook her head and drank it in one gulp, shuddering as she did. The 'clack' it made when she brought the glass back down was loud in the silence.

"How is she?"

They all looked at Vasquez, who had his own glass and a bottle at his elbow. He stared back, expressionless.

"...Doc thinks she'll make it." the widow replied after a time. "Some blood loss, but that tea you gave her seemed to help." To his surprise, she spoke to Red Harvest, who didn't let it show on his face as he nodded slightly.

"She said anything?"

She opened her mouth, shut it, looked down at her hands. Her voice was thick when she managed to speak, "She keeps asking for her brothers."

"You didn't tell her they're dead?" said Sam sharply.

Emma Cullen shook her head helplessly. "I didn't know how to tell her." she whispered. "She'll find out soon enough. Let her-"

"Her thinking those boys are alive for one second longer than she has to isn't gonna help her in the long run. They will be buried _tomorrow_." Sam cut her off, voice hard. He climbed heavily to his feet. "I'll...I'm going to tell her."

The woman surged to her feet, furious and blocked his path. "What good will that do? So she can spend the night wide awake and knowing the people she loves are-"

"And tomorrow is better? When she has all day and the rest of her life to know? What's one more day? You aren't doing her any favors in the long run Mrs. Cullen. Believe me, I know." For the first time since Red Harvest had met him, Sam Chisolm actually looked angry. Mrs. Cullen swallowed sharply and looked away.

No one tried to stop Sam after that. He put his hat on and left quickly. Emma seemed to fold in on herself, sinking into her chair like her legs wouldn't hold her anymore. Wisps of red hair fell into her face but she didn't bother push them out of her eyes. Vasquez sighed and poured her another drink.

"He's right."

"I don't think-"

"They are already gone." Red Harvest was surprised to hear himself speak, but he went on. "They died like warriors, and she should know. Their stories should be told."

Vasquez nodded slowly through his surprise. "He is also right."

Emma looked him square in the face, grief heavy in her eyes, and it dawned on him that she knew about grieving too, and her own was fresher than Sam's. Maybe she had wanted a time of not knowing. It seemed like years ago, but he had seen her kneeling on her husband's grave just that morning. Still she had fought. Her husband had fought. He nodded slightly, respectfully, at her.

"I'm going to bed gentleman." She drank her second glass of whiskey and set the glass down much more gently than she had before. As she stood she nodded respectfully to them both, but said to him: "Thank you for saving my life Red Harvest."

Vasquez shook his head and drank straight out of the bottle. "Strange woman."

Red Harvest cocked his head slightly and corrected the other. "A strong woman."


	13. The Telling

Okay my feeble turtle ducks, I actually teared up a little during this chapter so, I have no idea how you're going to take it. Keep in mind that I start out every chapter with only a skeleton of a plan, and sometimes that skeleton picks up a sword and goes running off to parts unknown, so this is just the way it came out.

Many thanks to everyone who favorited and followed my story, I'll do my best to please.

 **And last but never least, to:**

 **Dalonega Noquisi, who is not only encouraging but also thoughtful and willing to discourse.**

 **Sam0728...sorry?**

 **TheWorldInADay, still laughing at your review my friend. And don't pin all your hopes on Vasquez getting himself into gear just yet. ;)**

* * *

 _"It is useless for me to describe how Violet, Klaus, and even Sunny felt in the time that followed._

 _If you have ever lost someone very important to you,_

 _then you already know how it feels,_

 _and if you haven't you cannot possibly imagine it."_

Lemony Snickett, The Bad Beginning

The crickets were singing. The air still smelled like blood and smoke and the crickets were singing. The scar on his throat burned and Sam rubbed at it absently, trying to ease it, but it was no use. He knew it was more in his mind than anything at that point. It was discordant, the scents and the sounds that surrounded him; the night hid the damage that scarred the town and as he walked to McClay's Boarding House he imagined the street under him soaked and squelching with blood.

Sam shuddered.

He was too old for those sorts of flights of fancy. He steeled himself and walked on.

Low moans drifted out of the makeshift infirmary, and he could hear the undertaker Garrett still hard at work, hammering together the coffins for tomorrow. He was swearing a blue streak at his apprentice, at the boards, Sam thought he heard God mentioned a time or two in there. He shook his head and stepped carefully up the creaking steps of the boarding house. Everyone was still reeling. The world felt like it should have ended, but it hadn't. Life spun on and demanded that you get on with it. Coffins needed to be made, houses patched, and bodies healed. Life didn't give you time to sit and ponder your griefs; it forced you to go on by sheer necessity.

The door wasn't locked. Sam's eyes stung and he sucked in a sharp breath hand lingering on the knob. Had the day gone any different, there might not have been a door still standing. He stepped into the dark foyer and spotted a seam of light under the nearest door. It was very quiet as he knocked on the door gently. A brief rustle sounded inside and an older woman opened the door a crack, revealing a thin sliver of cheek and eye. When she saw who it was Mrs. McClay opened the door fully and raised expectant eyebrows up at him, but she didn't move to let him in.

"I'm here to talk to her." he explained, feeling slightly wrong footed under her imperious stare.

To his surprise, she sighed heavily and stepped back to allow him into Tessa Newell's room. To preserve her modesty -and to make room for those worse off- the doctor had felt it best to have her moved somewhere else. To everyone's surprise, the McClay's had immediately volunteered. Someone had cleaned her up, propped her up on a startling amount of pillows. When he'd seen her in the street she'd been blood spattered, gripping a gun and a knife, but fully alive. Out of all the terrible things he'd seen that day, seeing her limp and covered in blood -hers and others- had hit him hardest. Someone had cleaned the blood from her, put her in a white shift, and wrapped her hair until it could be washed. Her skin was waxy and pale in the lantern's light. She looked, for a moment, so much like a corpse, that Sam Chisolm knew a brief moments panic. Then her colorless lips parted on a soft exhale, and he felt like he could breath too.

"She's been stirring. She'll wake up soon." Mrs. McClay went to her chair and scooped up a pile of fabric. Her eyes were solemn. "You going to tell her?"

"That is the plan."

They both studied her and Mrs. McClay shook her head. "Poor girl." Sam took her chair as she walked out and pulled it a little closer to Tessa's bedside. She'd always addressed him by his last name, but insisted he call her by her first, since it was easier. He hadn't been able to say it aloud, had limited himself to Newell, or Miss. She felt like a Tessa now, for the first time. Sam set his elbows on his knees and bent his head.

When he'd finished his prayer he looked up and Tessa's eyes were open.

As always they struck him. He'd never met someone with eyes that could go from nearly black all the way to silver before Tessa Newell, depending on the time of day. They were soft as rain clouds at the moment and he straightened up quickly.

"You're alive." Her whisper was a rasp. Sam spied a tumbler on the nightstand and quickly handed it to her. He made to help her but she waved him off, and gripped the cup with shaking fingers. She drank the last of the tea with a grimace, studying him. Sam held her stare steadily and she brought the cup to rest in her lap. Fear was rinsing out her eyes, turning them hard and shiny. Tessa licked her lips, "What-what is it?" Sam watched the pulse flutter in her throat and cleared his throat.

"Nick and Joe didn't make it."

The words arched and fell flat between them with an impact he could almost hear. He watched them strike and slide off her. Tessa blinked uncomprehendingly at him, eyes wide. She shook her head back and forth slowly. Sam pressed on, struggling to keep his voice even: "Joe was in the steeple, and he-"

"No."

"He took most of the fire from the gatling gun. There was no saving-"

" _No_."

The pieces left of his heart cracked and Sam mouthed soundlessly at the air before he found his breath. "-he died long before anyone could get up there to get him down. He saved Goody and Billy." She was still shaking her head, a desperate look on her face.

"Nick and Faraday went to take out the gatling gun." A sharp, painful noise he hadn't known a person could make left her but he doggedly went on. "Got shot up along the way but they managed to get close enough to blow it up. Nick saved Faraday's life by taking the worst of the blast. He took a shot to the belly Tessa, he couldn't have lived-"

" _Stop."_

Sam did, shame following hot on the heels of his relief. She had lost everything today, and all he had to do was tell her. _She_ had to live with it. Tessa's breathing was jerky and she looked so small in the bed, fragile like he hadn't realized she could be. Sam waited. Finally she looked up at him. "They can't be," she said desperately, dissolving into tears. "Maybe it was a mistake, maybe you got it wrong. Sa-Chisolm they _can't be_. They-I'm supposed to go first, I'm the oldest. _I'm supposed to go first_!"

She slapped a hand against the bedding for emphasis and jerked with the pain it caused her. Before he could think better of it he'd grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Let me go, let me _go_ , I have to-I have to go-" She thrashed in his arms and Sam held her firmly, tucking her head under his chin in an move that brought back a slew of painful memories. He found himself rocking her and murmuring softly into the thin cloth of her head wrap, nonsense things that neither of them heard. Eventually the fight drained out of her and she sobbed against his chest, sharp and ragged. She weakly beat her fist against his arm, babbling brokenly all the while. "I need them back, I need to go to get them, I have to see-I need to know-"

Sam cast a silent prayer up to God for help. There was no gripping this pain, no catching it and wrestling it into submission. She shook so hard he thought she would fly to pieces. He held her tighter. He didn't mean to start humming, but it turned into the song his mother used to sing to his sisters when they were afraid. _Bring them in, bring them in, bring them in from fields of sin…_

When he'd hummed the last of the chorus she pulled herself out of his grip and looked at him. Sam wasn't quite sure what to say. He wasn't supposed to be this close to a white woman and if she were anyone else, this would be a hanging offense. But she didn't seem to care. Like it hadn't even occurred to her that it might matter. She didn't feel like just some white woman. She was just a young woman, sad and angry, reminding him painfully of his sisters. She was Tessa. Her eyes were red and swollen with weeping and they searched his face. "You're sure?"

Sam took a deep fortifying breath and reached into his vest for the little rolled up bundle he'd made and placed it in her hand. Tessa looked from it to him quickly, and unrolled the red fabric stiff with old blood. She started crying again as she pieced through the valuables he'd carefully collected from their bodies. A silver pocket watch -as scratched and battered as the man who had carried it- a bolo tie that had survived the gatling gun, and a piece of silver so worn from handling he wasn't sure what was on its face. It didn't matter. Tessa knew it. She clutched them in her hands and pressed them to her eyes. Somehow the soft weeping was worse than her sobbing and shouting. Sam discreetly wiped his face. Eventually she stopped, hiccuping gently. She stared down at her brothers keepsakes

"When will they…?"

"Tomorrow." He considered the time. "Today. I wanted to tell you...I wanted you to have some time to get used-" He winced. That was the wrong thing to say. "I didn't want you to find out and then just bury them."

"Thank you." She looked up at him finally and he understood she was thanking him for more than his thoughtfulness.

Sam shook his head. "No. Don't. Not for this. This is just what...what good people are supposed to do."

Tessa's lips twitched, the bare bones of a smile. "I suppose. Kept me from flying to pieces."

The admission embarrassed him and Sam cleared his throat sharply, looking away. "Will you be all right now?" He winced internally. That was a stupid question. One he knew the answer to better than anyone. Tessa laughed at him, a low rasping sound that had nothing to do with humor and he shut his eyes against it, heart clenching.

"This isn't the first time I've lost someone." Her smile was bleak and more tears gathered in her eyes. "I'll be here. I'm alive. And that's all I'll be for awhile."

Sam couldn't bring himself to look at her. But he understood. And for a moment he thought of his mother and sisters, what he had become after them, and knew a moments worry for Tessa Newell. More than. He nodded at his knees and carefully gained his feet. Exhaustion hit him like a sledgehammer, as if his body had waited until he'd finished this last task before giving up. Tessa read him correctly and a thin thread of warmth entered her voice.

"Go to sleep Mr. Chisolm. Go rest."

He studied her, sitting in a pool of lantern light, swallowed by her bedclothes and shadows. It seemed to him that she might fracture and shatter the moment he turned away. Her eyes were cloudy and she stared back impassively, before drawing a shuddering breath and carefully straightening her shoulders. Tessa jutted her chin forward, and her expression -a pale imitation of yesterday's fight- dared him to argue.

" _Go._ "

So he did.

Mrs. McClay came out of her bedroom, ghostly in her shawl and nightgown, carrying a single, guttering candle. She lifted it high and looked from him to the bedroom. He couldn't quite tell under the shifting shadows, but she seemed concerned. "How is she Mr. Chisolm?"

"'Bout as well as one might expect." he replied, weary down to his bones. "Time will tell."

She nodded slightly and her words drew him up short. "I'll keep an eye on her, don't you worry. And Mr. Chisolm? Thank you. For all of it."

His throat closed up with grief and he left without replying. The crickets were still singing in the cool night air, and his internal clock told him dawn was not far off. Sam thought he could sleep for hours, but there was still work to be done. Dead to be buried. The undertaker's workshop was finally quiet and still, and he knew without looking that that was where Jack Horne, Nick and Joe Newell were all waiting before being moved to their final resting place. His feet carried him automatically to the Elysium, ownerless now that Gavin David had died too, and as he stepped onto its porch a faint buzz had him stiffening in spite of himself. After a tense moment he realized it was snoring. In fact-

"That you Vasquez?"

There was a snort and a thump, followed by Spanish-sounding mumbles and a sleep rough voice replied out of the dark. "Who-"

"It's just me. You been sleeping out here?" A pang of nostalgia hit him and Sam shook it away tiredly.

Vasquez yawned. "Was waiting for you. ...Does she…?" He trailed off meaningfully.

"She knows." He paused, testing the sort of silence surrounding the other man, and felt a sudden urge to smile. "You know, I don't think she'd mind if you visited her."

"I don't-not tonight-she's very- _I'm_ very-" Vasquez sputtered and Sam allowed the smile to grow, where no one could see.

"Not tonight of course." Sam agreed easily. "But sometime. Should get some real sleep now."

He left the Mexican on the porch, still sputtering and protesting and hiked up to his room. The smile didn't leave his face for a long while, his amusement warring with the sorrow banging in his chest. Maybe something good would come out of this after all. That thought in mind he rolled over and shut his eyes. After everything that had happened, he didn't think he would sleep. But before he knew it, it was morning, sunshine slanting across his face, and someone knocking on the door, telling him it was time.


	14. Two Coffins for Me

Hi! Hermes here! I just want to thank everyone who reviewed, it means so much to me and you all are so encouraging! Genuinely, I wish I could make all of you the cookies of your choice. I guess you'll have to settle for my undying gratitude?

This chapter wasn't fun to write _in the least_ , but narrative wise I think it needed to happen. I'm so not done with this story, there will be another climax to come and another story arc. Everything is off the reservation at this point! Stick with me, it'll be fun! (I hope). That being said, I've never really gone so far off the beaten trail so to speak, so I hope I can keep your interest. And for my shippers, yes, Tessa/Vas is endgame! he's still an outlaw so that'll be ALL sorts of fun to write.

If you want to have more emotions than you'd like to just listen to "Gone" by Ioanna Gike while you're reading this. Or, or "I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young. you know, because I don't torture you lot enough.

* * *

 _"_ _No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid._

 _The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing._

 _At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed._

 _There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says._

― **C.S. Lewis** , **A Grief Observed**

Later, when she could touch those days in her memory without flinching, she would realize that she remembered _none_ of what she did or said after Sam Chisolm left. The only thing she knew clearly was that somehow she slept with the lamp burning in the dark. When she finally woke the lamp had burned itself down, but that didn't matter. Tessa stared out the window into the late morning sun and gently prodded her new reality. The knowledge that Nick and Joe were dead spilled over and she gasped aloud. It didn't feel real. It _couldn't_ be real. She didn't know what to do with it. Part of her, not part of her, she held it- Tessa became abruptly aware of the pain in her hand and looked at it, surprised. It was almost disconnected from her at this point and she looked down to see Chisolm's sad bundle clutched in her fist, knuckles white with effort. She willed her hand to loosen it's grasp and her heart made a noise of pain -maybe that was her- but slowly her fingers complied. She didn't cry. She…

Mrs. McClay found her like that, staring down at the quilt and the pieces of silver laid on it. The older woman said nothing. She didn't ask how Tessa was. She didn't cluck and say how sorry she was that all this had happened. She pressed a careful hand to Tessa's forehead and nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever she found there. Her palm was calloused and warm against Tessa's skin and she found herself at once welcoming it and rejecting it. Before she could try to parse the two thoughts Mrs. McClay proclaimed that the blood in hair needed to be washed out, and they would figure out a way to get her to the gravesite. The words punctured her lungs.

Tessa submitted to Mrs. McClay's bustling and fussing without comment or feeling. She couldn't. She held a storm in a teacup, and as long as she didn't nudge it, or look at it, the storm balanced inside it. While Mr. McClay carried in bucket after bucket of water to slosh into a basin by her bedside, Mrs. McClay had pulled out a blouse and skirt that would "probably fit you let me see what I can do."

Some part of her wanted to smile and thank them, if only for politeness sake. Another, larger part of her was getting irrationally angry about occasionally being splashed with water. She settled for looking down at Nick's watch, feeling the scratches and dents in the metal, tracing the stupid bolo Joe insisted "completed his outfit." Her eyes burned and mucus began to clog her nose. It was just as well that Mrs. McClay sent her husband fleeing the room with a sharp word to go and get that wagon ready Willis, this girl can't walk!

If it had been any other day Tessa would have laughed at them.

"Here girl give me your feet." Without waiting to see if Tessa objected Mrs. McClay lifted up the bedclothes revealing pale, freckled limbs. Her right leg gave a warning throb. Something must have shown on her face because the other gingerly patted her knee. "We'll just have to be careful. Here shift, I've got you."

With a surprising amount of tenderness she slid her hands up under Tessa's leg and took the weight as she pushed with her left leg and turned so she was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the basin of steaming water. The pain had her teeth chattering and Tessa struggled to breathe through it, because she certainly couldn't fight it. She had no idea she was swaying forward until Mrs. McClay braced her. "Steady, steady. Here, let's get your hair washed."

Tessa's gorge rose as soon as her matted hair fell around her face. It smelled strongly of blood, kerosene, and dirt. For a moment she was back in the trench, back in the church - _Joe was in the church-_ , and only Mrs. McClay's voice and hands pressing her's brought her out of her fugue state. The hands that clasped hers were rough from a life's hard work, and warm, but Tessa was still shaking, a full body quiver that made her bullet wounds twinge. One long fingered hand pushed her hair out of her face, taking the brunt of the scent with it.

"Cut it off. _Please_."

The voice was strange. It took her a moment to recognize it as her own. Wide blue eyes blinked up at her and narrowed in thought. Belatedly, Tessa recalled that this was the woman who'd kicked her out of this fine establishment. But then, to her surprise she nodded once, sharply, and went to get some scissors. Tessa tucked her nose into the collar of her nightgown, but she could still smell her own hair. It was so long, she realized with some dismay. It was probably _soaked_ with blood. The thought made her gag and clapped a hand over her mouth, just barely managing to keep her stomach from rebelling.

"I've got you girl. Just sit up and be still."

Tessa spared a moment to be grateful that she was being so matter-of-fact about everything. Kindness, or worse, pity, would have undone her. She submitted to the scissors and breathed through her mouth. A truly startling amount of hair fell to the wayside, matted with dirt and blood, and Tessa watched it go dispassionately. Several pounds of hair shedded later Mrs. McClay directed her to lean over the basin face first. She did as instructed and was abruptly thrown back to when her mother would wash her hair over the sink. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

The soap was strong and stung her scalp -little dings and knicks she hadn't realized she'd acquired during the fray- and Tessa resisted the absurd urge to rub some under her nose, if only to smell something different. Mrs. McClay patted her shoulder, indicating she should rise a bit and then rinsed her hair out with water so cold she gasped. Then, with rough practiced hands she toweled off her hair with a rough bit of wool. The younger woman fought not to lean into the motion. There was nothing gentle about it, but it was familiar in a way. Tessa set her jaw.

"I know you prefer pants, but here, these'll be easier on your leg." Mrs. McClay handed her a bundle of folded clothing, smelling faintly of cedar. The smell, the gesture, nearly broke her, and Tessa nodded shakily, unable to speak for a long moment. She plucked at the fabric of her nightgown shyly.

"I think I'll need help getting dressed."

"Of course." said the woman crisply. "Bum leg like that? You'll be lucky if you can _stand_ without help."

* * *

She wasn't hungry, but she could not deny the hard work of the McClay's so she forced down something she didn't taste, and let Mrs. McClay help her stand. It was time. Mr. McClay -call me Willis- had borrowed one of McLaughlin's wagons from next door. It wasn't far, and it wasn't a large wagon but they had underestimated just how short Tessa was. She looked at the wagon and a dark amusement welled up in her. Wasn't it enough, she wondered, that she had to bury her brothers today? Did she really have to walk and jump just to get to say goodbye?

The undertakers wasn't far, and it drew her eye while the McClay's quietly bickered. Had they moved them already? Beyond Garrett's she could see activity in the graveyard, hear the impact of shovels into the red ground. They were digging graves. A lot, if the number of men working was any indication.

Tessa blinked. Who else had died?

Who else was grieving?

"Are you alright Tessa?"

Emma. Tessa shook herself free from her thoughts and looked up into Emma's concerned face from her seat. She hadn't heard the other come up. "Yes? Emma, who else...who else died?" The words hurt to say, like chewing rocks. Emma blinked in surprise.

"Jack Horne, Gavin David, Harold Platt, Peter Jeffries…"

As she listed the dead, one by one, Tessa swallowed hard and shut her eyes. _Jack_. She hadn't even _asked_ -

"Tessa you only just found out about Nick and Joe, and you're injured. The sweetest saint wouldn't have asked before now."

A blush crept up her cheeks and Tessa rubbed a hand over her face in embarrassment. She hadn't realized she'd said that aloud. Emma made a noise that was not quite laughter, and sat beside her. They watched the McClay's bicker and talk about finding a stepstool -she can't use her right leg Willis what good is a step stool going to do?- and sat in silence. Occasionally a child or two ran back and forth accross the street, either playing or delivering something, Tessa wasn't sure. She finally managed to ask:

"Everyone else…?" Vasquez and Red Harvest had not been among the dead but if they were-she hadn't known them that well but-unbidden she thought of Vas's smile and just as quickly shoved the thought away.

"Red Harvest, Vasquez, and Mr. Chisolm are fine." Emma answered, unaware of the turn her thoughts had taken. "Faraday, Goodnight, and Billy haven't woken up to tell us one way or the other." A small burst of relief lightened the grief and guilt in her chest and Tessa listed forward where she sat, sent up a prayer of gratitude to whoever was listening.

"I want to see them."

Emma looked over at her, startled and followed the line of Tessa's gaze to the undertakers. Her sigh came quick and sharp. "Tessa, they won't look-"

"I know how death looks Emma. I've seen it. But I have to see them myself. Because this doesn't _feel real_ , and if I don't see them before they go in the ground I think a part of me will always be looking for them." Tears threatened to spill over and she looked up, refusing to let them fall.

She could tell Emma nodded in her peripherals. "I don't think there's anyone in this town that wouldn't give you what you asked for, within reason. But take it from me…" For the first time since she'd known the widow, her voice cracked and it startled Tessa. Emma was staring out at the street and stubbornly trying to keep her own tears in check. "...it don't feel real. At least it hasn't yet for me. There are nights, I _know_ my Matthew isn't there, but I still find myself turning to ask him something."

A desperate bubble of laughter escaped before she could stop it. "That's not very comforting Emma."

"No it's not." Emma said grimly. "But it's true."

Tessa studied her in profile and hope she could be as strong as Emma Cullen. She would have to be. That or lay down and die, like a dog been beaten too many times. The realization lodged somewhere under her breastbone, burning and she suddenly felt so _tired_. Laying down sounded good at the moment. Emma patted her shoulder and stood, shedding the grief like shedding water. But it was still there, underneath. Her hand lingered and touched the feathered edges of her shoulder length hair.

"It was too much." Tessa explained.

Emma just nodded. "It suits you."

Tessa returned to her study of the street and locked eyes with Sam Chisolm standing a ways from the wagon and the arguing couple. He made a questioning gesture. She shrugged. "Will you help me up Emma?"

To her credit, the red head did as she asked, sliding an arm around her waist and bracing her right elbow with her other hand, doubt heavy on her face the whole while. Tessa explained through gritted teeth as her leg throbbed. "I know everyone's busy, I don't want to hold anyone up-"

"Don't worry about that." Emma assured her. "Lot of graves to dig."

And that was that.

Eventually it was Red Harvest who solved the issue of how to get her to the undertakers. Once he understood the problem, he walked over to her and held out his arms, question clear in his face. Tessa tried not to cling to Emma too tightly, but she was shaking with the effort of standing and her heart was loud in her ears. She nodded. "I'm heavy though fair warn-"

Red Harvest snorted and scooped her up as if she weighed precisely nothing. Tessa couldn't contain a squeak of shock. Her thigh twinged, but it didn't protest too much. Lacking any sort of expression whatsoever the warrior carried her to the undertaker's workshop. Emma followed. Jake Garrett led them in. People cast her strange looks along the way as they went about repairing the town. There were several coffins in the room, but the smell of fresh cut wood couldn't fully disguise the scent of rot underneath. Her skin crawled and she shuddered in Red Harvest's arms. He glanced down at her sharply and only set her on her feet after she nodded.

"I had to make Nick's special Miss Newell." Garrett stood, hat in hand, and nodded at the box to her left. The bags under her eyes were evidence of his hard work. "We worked all night to get everything ready."

In spite of herself Tessa was touched and she nodded gratefully, unable to speak. "Joe's is right here." The older man pointed to the coffin lying next to Nick's. "You understand, they aren't going to look...they aren't going to look like people so much. My wife and I, we did the best we could..."

"I know."

He lifted up the coffin lids one by one and Red Harvest and Emma helped her limp over to them. Tessa looked into them long and hard, steeled herself so she couldn't convince herself of anything but the truth. Her little brothers were in those coffins. They looked like poor wax replicas of the men she knew and for a moment her mind rejected what she was seeing. She shook her head and forced herself to pick out the features she recognized under the purpling-green skin and sunken eye sockets.

There was Joe's broken nose, busted by an irate husband. There was the scar on Nick's eyebrow, where a bounty had gotten off a lucky shot. Tears started to slide down her face and she didn't try to stop them. Someone had gotten their spare clothes from their saddlebags and dressed them, cleaned the bodies. A low keen of pain escaped her before Tessa could stop herself and Red Harvest's hand tightened on her elbow. She quickly smothered the sound. Their faces were untouched. If she look at their bodies, they didn't look like they'd been shot to pieces and blown to hell.

They didn't look like they should be dead.

"Thank you Mr. Garrett." she managed around the lump in her throat. "You and your wife, you did-did a good job."

Emma's hand found it's way to her forehead, the contact too warm for comfort. "Do you need to sit down, you look pale-" she whispered worriedly.

Tessa jerked her head away from Emma's hand and fixed her with a narrowed gaze that was fiercer than she actually felt. "I was there when they were born. I'll be there when they're buried."

Red Harvest took that as his cue, gently lifted her again and carried her out to the wagon. To her surprise, both Chisolm and Vasquez were there too. Chisolm was as inscrutable as ever dressed in black, but Vasquez looked as if he'd been working hard all morning. It was strangely comforting to see that hadn't changed.

"'Preacher says Jack and your brothers can't be buried in the church yard because they didn't live here." Vasquez began without preamble. "But if you like it, I picked a spot up on the ridge-" he pointed the direction. "-for them."

Tessa touched the bundle she'd hung around her neck and nodded absently. "Does it much matter? Nick and Joe aren't-" She caught herself and stopped before she could insult the man any more. 'I mean thank you, Vas. That will be a good place." Their eyes met and he didn't flinch from what he saw there. He nodded quietly and gestured for Willis McClay to get moving.

"Let's go then."


	15. The Damage Done

Hi guys! Hermes here! Still not _exactly sure_ where the story is going in the long term (other than Vas and Tessa finally getting their acts together _)_ but here's a chapter to tide you over until I do figure it out!

Also! I start a new job on the 18th, so updating may be a little more sporadic after that, but I hope you'll stick with me!

Thanks to **SugarRed** for your thoughtful review, and **Dalonega Noquisi** for mentioning the things you liked specifically, as that helps me write later chapters.

Something about _this_ chapter bugs me, so if it bugs any of you guys let me know what it is about that does, because I'm drawing a blank here.

As always, enjoy!

Hermes out~!

* * *

 _"Guilt is the worst demon to bear_

 _Strangling you_

 _from the inside of your body."_

Nikita Gill

Six Weeks Later

"I have had enough."

Goodnight looked up at her from hollowed eyes, clearly startled. The dark circles around them, the gauntness of his cheeks struck any pity she might have had abruptly from her heart. Tessa glared back. "You aren't even trying to get better!" She loomed over him, hands on her hips and well aware she was quickly losing her temper. It was something that happened more and more these days.

A look of pain, followed quickly by resignation flitted quickly across his face. Her temples throbbed and her nostrils flared. "Goodnight Robicheaux I swear to God-"

"Yes?" he asked, almost lazily. His eyes glittered.

Tessa hauled off and slapped him hard. The old snipers head snapped to the side with the force of her blow and a handprint quickly started raising on his cheek.

"Tessa!" That was Billy, somehow managing to sound murderous even from his bed and full of holes. He was struggling into a sitting position, grunting with pain. He was going to tear his stitches the foolish man!

"Shut up and lay back down!" she snarled at him and quickly turned back to Goodnight, who made no move to defend himself. That only made her angrier. She jabbed a finger in his face. "Why are you doing this? Starving yourself to death, refusing to get better!? Joe didn't die-"

The full body flinch must have been painful, Goodnight shut his eyes against the pain and it drew Tessa up sharply. She straightened up and stared down at him. The room, the whole bleeding building even, had gone suddenly still and quiet. "Is that it? This is because Joe died and you _didn't?_ " she asked, incredulous. It was small but Goodnight flinched again. He drew in a quick, shaky breath.

"Believe me Ms. Newell, if I could trade places with your brother I-" Tessa snatched the pillow from under his head, mad enough to tear it to shreds with her teeth. She settled for beating him with it.

"You-you-you _inconsiderate. Stubborn. self - flagellating._ ** _Idiot_** **."**

Each word was punctuated by a smack with his pillow. It was a good pillow, heavy, full of feathers. It was better than punching him, and Billy needed to be grateful. His growl was audible. She finally stopped, teeth bared. " _How dare you_?"

"Tessa-" That was Vas, cautious sounding, from the doorway. She whirled and he actually _backed away_ from her like she was dangerous. Satisfied he wouldn't interfere she wheeled back to Goodnight who was wheezing from pain.

"Do you think this is going to solve anything?" she demanded. "Will this bring my brother back? Will dying make you feel better? Do you think it will make _me_ feel better?" With each question he blanched a little paler, either from the pain or the strain she'd put him through. A flicker of shame gave her pause but it drowned quickly in the anger that had been stewing for the last six weeks. Tessa bent forward and was rewarded with Goody pressing himself into the sheets as far as he could go. The shame won that time, and it smothered her anger. Abruptly, tears welled in her eyes.

"None of it will bring him back. The answer to all those questions is _no_ , Goodnight. You're alive and he's not, and I don't _care_ if you blame yourself for it; _I_ don't." Tessa hesitated, surprised at the truthfulness of her own words. She swallowed hard and straightened up. "Do you understand me? Do I need to hit you again?"

It was a poor threat. Her longtime companion, anger, was nowhere to be found for the moment and she didn't quite have it in her to dredge up the appropriately threatening expression. But he quickly shook his head, wide eyed. Tessa nodded firmly, sniffed. "Good." She folded her arms and raised her voice slightly, turning to the open door where Vas was still watching, but not with fear, more like he'd finally grasped something that had long eluded him. "Faraday?"

"...Yes?"

"Do I need to have a similar conversation with you?"

"..." Well that answered _that_.

Tessa sighed sharply and marched to his room, a bit of the familiar anger resurging. Faraday had woken up shortly after Billy, but he'd studiously avoided behaving anything like himself, at least to her. She'd thought it stemmed from him nearly dying, but was quickly disabused of the notion when she walked in on him flirting with the schoolteacher Jemma Wilkin, who doubled as a nurse until the school officially reopened. As soon as she'd walked in, he'd clammed right up and become endlessly polite and conciliatory. So very _un-_ Faraday-like.

She found him lying, one leg propped up on several pillows and resisted the urge to pinch him to get his full attention. He didn't quite meet her eyes, staring somewhere in the vicinity of her nose. "Listen here you drunkard, I'm only going to say this once. Nick dying wasn't your fault. In fact if you want to blame anyone you can damn well blame _me_ , y-you understand?" She stuttered. She hadn't meant to say that- "He chose to do what he did, and he would have died anyway even if he hadn't. More than, you'd be dead too. So _stop_ beating yourself up about it and get better. That goes for _all_ of you!"

With the parting shot Tessa whirled sharply out of the room, brushed quickly by the line of heat and muscle that was Vas, and nearly tripped down the stairs in her haste to get away. There weren't many people in the saloon of the Elysium, (now under new management), but they all studiously _did not_ look at her. A blush rose up in her face and she quickly crossed the room and limped out into the sweltering July heat. Her leg was protesting fiercely after all those stairs and marching about but the woman was careful to let none of the pain show on her face as she made her way to the livery.

The stables were cool and dim, and just walking inside caused a good bit of the tension she'd been carrying to bleed away. Scratch poked his large head over the stall door and whuffled softly at her in greeting. Tears started to form but Tessa willed them back and went to him, limp more pronounced now that she was sure no one could see her. McLane was always in the feed store at this time of day. That was enough to allow her to lean on the stall door, arms folded to cushion her head. Scratch lipped softly at her hair and that made her want to cry even more.

Shame was roiling hot and heavy in her stomach. Tessa hit her head on her arms, ignoring Scratch's snort of displeasure. "I hit him." she told the mule from the safety of her folded arms.. "I shouldn't have done that. What am I doing? That wasn't good. God what am I doing?" Goodnight's pained expression flashed behind her eyes and she ground the heels of her palms into her eyes, welcoming the burst of color and pain.

Which also meant she was a hypocrite.

"I am an awful person." she admitted aloud, to the empty stable.

"Oh I don't think so."

Tessa jerked around, startled and not a little embarrassed. "Vas? Did you-why are you-?"

The Mexican shrugged, hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically shy. "I wanted to see if you were alright."

She blinked. "Yes. Yes I'm fine. I'll be-"

Vas pinned her with a _look_ , equal parts self-conscious and determined. "Then what did you mean about to being to blame-"

"Nothing. I misspoke. Death happens. It wasn't anyone's fault." Tessa denied automatically.

Vas was clearly not convinced, he took a step closer. "Tessa-"

"No." Tessa pressed her back into the stall door. "No. It's fine Vas. There's-"

"You haven't been sleeping."

"Well I don't think anyone has, really-"

"You don't eat like you should." Vas forged on, brown eyes relentless on her own. "You are angry _all the time._ I see it chiquita."

Tessa suppressed a burst of irritation. "Your point?" she said icily.

"My _point_?" Vasquez spread his hands helplessly. "I- _we_ are worried about you."

"I am _grieving_. And in pain." Her voice rose without her consent and she advanced on the man, who, to his credit, didn't back down. Her own heartbeat was loud in her ears. "I'm sorry if that's such a bother to you lot-"

"It's not a _bother_ you crazy woman! Dios mio!" Vasquez had never raised his voice like that, not in the time she'd known him and Tessa fell back a half step before she caught herself. It was enough. As the outlaw visibly fought to get himself under control, the bounty hunter knew a moments regret. She didn't _want_ to yell at Vas; she didn't want to yell at _anyone_ for that matter. She wanted-she wanted….something. The tall Mexican took a deep breath through his nose and released it before he opened his eyes and looked at her again.

"What did you mean," he said calmly. "When you said you were to blame?"

Tessa's mouth set in a hard line. On the whole, she preferred the anger. It was harder to fortify herself against kindness.

"Nothing. There isn't anyone to blame-"

"Maybe not." Vas's hand wrapped carefully around her upper arm and she stiffened, drawing her arm away. He let her. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean you don't blame yourself."

His eyes were warm, and knowing, and that made her suddenly, irrationally, angry. "You know what? You want to know? Fine. Here it is. It's my fault. It has to be. If I hadn't talked them into this my little brothers would still be alive. If I hadn't gone after Jack Horne and sewed him back together, _he_ would still be alive. Nick and Joe warned me about the gatling gun, or something like it, and I didn't account for it. I could have done more. I _should_ have made a contingency plan for it, but I messed up and my brothers are _gone_ , and God knows how many more! Because _I_ failed."

Her chest was heaving and she was aware she was crying, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. Vas was staring at her like she was a crazy person. "What could you have done that you did not already do? How could you have stopped the gun?"

"I could have-I could have-" the words tumbled over themselves on the way out as her mind tried to offer a solution the problem that had plagued her for weeks.

"You _could not_ have." Vas objected sharply. "You are not God, to know all things. You saved more lives than lost with those jars! And your brothers, they were not the type of men to be led around by the nose! Do you think they would have come if they hadn't wanted to?"

"They wouldn't have left me." Tessa spat.

"Of course not! But would they have come in the first place if they hadn't wanted to? _Would they have let you_?"

"Let-!"

"Don't pretend like their opinions and thoughts didn't matter to you!" Vas snapped, clearly getting frustrated again. "They chose to come, same as you, same as Jack! You yell at Goody and Faraday about self pity? You are a _hypocrite_. You sit out here and blame yourself, and won't listen to anyone, won't talk to anyone-"

Never mind that his words echoed her own thoughts, Tessa was livid. She shoved at his chest, further incensed when he barely budged. They were practically nose to nose, despite the height difference. "Oh and what do you call this?"

"I call this _arguing_ ," Vas growled, lowering his face till it was inches from hers. "With a foolish, stubborn, _angry_ woman who won't let someone help her."

For the second time that day Tessa's hand lashed out of its own accord. The slap rang loud in the silence and a few horses stirred uneasily in their stalls. They stared at each other, and Tessa wasn't sure who was more shocked.

"I'm sorry." It came out as a whimper. She hadn't meant-. What had _she done_? She fell back a step, pale and wide eyed. Vas had yet to move. "Oh my God, _Vas,_ Jesus."

He reached for her and Tessa flinched away. He let his hand fall to his side. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Her breath was coming in sharp little pants. "Vas, Vas I shouldn't have-I'm so _sorry_."

One hand reached up and clutched the necklace hanging around her neck and the other ran through her hair, mussing it even further. She didn't noticed Vasquez sidle closer. What was _wrong_ with her? She couldn't breathe. "Vas-Vas please just _go_." she choked out. "I'm so _sorry_."

"Hey, hey. Breathe. Respirar."

Surprisingly gentle hands curled around her wrists, and Tessa couldn't help but flinch in spite of how light he kept the contact. His thumbs traced soothing circles over the delicate skin of her inner wrist, murmuring to her to breath. In spite of herself, she found herself matching his breathing, inhales and exhales. Vas was a solid wall of muscle, inches from her, and the woman felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to just burrow into him and not come out. Blinking, she raised her face. And winced. A hand print was already raising on his face, but he didn't _look_ angry...

"I shouldn't have hit you." she whispered.

His head tipped to the side, eyes sweeping over her face in a way that made her feel as if he saw everything inside her and her blush intensified. "I'm sorry-"

"You've said that." Tessa shut her eyes and swallowed hard. She opened her mouth to...apologize again? Vas beat her to it. "You will not do it again." Her eyes shot open in surprise.

It wasn't a threat. He wasn't threatening her. Tessa had heard all kinds, _from_ all kinds. But Vasquez, outlaw and murderer, (and hero, some part of her mind stubbornly insisted) wasn't anything but calm and sure in the face of her guilt and shame. Unwillingly her gaze dipped to the clear handprint on his face and she grimaced. The words spilled out without her consent and it took all her effort not to roll her eyes at herself. Couldn't she, just this once, take the win?

"I hit you so hard…."

Abruptly an impish grin tipped up the corners of his mouth, sunlight breaking through, and Tessa's heart gave a sudden, distressing, jump. She just _knew_ she was staring up at him like an idiot. "It's not the first time a beautiful woman has hit me." And the moment was gone.

Tessa scoffed weakly, heart pounding, and shoved him away. This time he went, laughing quietly at her. That was one thing she admired about Vas. He meant what he said, and if he had a problem with you, he didn't mind saying it. Sighing, she ran both hands through her hair in an attempt to get it under control. It was probably _unacceptably_ messy at this point. Her face was tacky with tears and she dipped her bandana into the water trough to wipe it clean. To his credit, her friend didn't make it obvious he was waiting for her to gather herself, he busied himself lighting a cigar and patted a nearby, curious horse. Rose Creek had a surplus, after everything.

"You're right." she said aloud when she was a little calmer.

"Of course I am. What about?" Tessa bit back a smile.

"I won't hit you again."

"I know. You did not mean to do it this time." Vas puffed contentedly away at his cigar and smiled at her again.

Wonder rippled through her, drew her up short, and Tessa peered up at him, at a loss for words. He had pierced her, words striking some hurting place in her heart that she hadn't known was in need of healing. Some of the ice around her heart sloughed off and an inexplicable fondness for him welled up. "Thank you" seemed inadequate. So she didn't say it. Vas would just wave it off gruffly anyway, muttering about women.

She limped to the trough (she would need to sit down after this), dipped the bandana back in the cool water and wrung it out as she made her way back to Vas. Feeling bold she pressed it to his cheek, and he startled lightly, hand coming up and briefly covering hers before she pulled away, sans cloth. Her hand tingled and she blinked. Just as quickly she pressed it aside and offered him an apologetic smile. "For the swelling. Now if you'll excuse me," Tessa drew in a fortifying breath. "I've got to go apologize to Goodnight."

* * *

Tessa paused in the doorway of Goodnight and Billy's shared room and blinked at what she found. Goodnight, sitting up, _eating_ like a normal person. It was broth and a slice of bread, but he was intent on the tray in his lap as only a starving man could be. Tears stung her eyes but she managed not to break down. This time anyway. Billy, reclining in his own bed, noticed her immediately and his eyes narrowed sharply, but he didn't say anything. Before she could chicken out she rapped on the doorframe.

Goodnight looked up. His cheek was still red. Their eyes locked and Tessa opened her mouth just as he did:

"I'm sorry for-"

"I must apologize-"

They both stumbled to a halt, blinking at one another in surprise. Tessa tried again. "I should not have hit you."

"No you shouldn't."

"Billy!" Goodnight scolded, and then turned to her. To her bemusement, he smiled wryly. "Ignore him."

"Hey!"

"Ms. Newell-Tessa-"

"Goodnight, I am sorry." she said firmly, before he could say anything else. The man shook his head grinning slightly.

"I am sorry I upset you."

Tessa threw her hands up in the air. "Goodnight I slapped you!" she cried. _Be angry you foolish man, I deserve it!_

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and didn't quite meet her eyes. "You had a point. And you weren't afraid to say it. I'm not going to say I enjoyed it-"

"Just don't do it again." Billy interrupted, clearly exasperated. With her or Goodnight, she couldn't say.

When she laughed it startled her. Tessa clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise, cutting herself off. Both men carefully looked somewhere else. She cleared her throat and her voice was a raspy whisper. "I won't." A familiar voice drifted in from the next room. The walls were thin as paper.

"...Do _I_ get an apology?"

"No!"

"Oh hush Faraday." Goodnight rolled his eyes.

"I almost died you know!"

"Join the club." Billy grumbled.

Tessa laughed a little helplessly as Faraday started complaining. They did not mention her tears.


	16. The Road Ahead

**So! Some things I want you to know! I just started a new job, and while it's great to have a decent paycheck again, I'm usually really tired in the evenings, so while I will definitely be continuing this story, I will not be updating as often as I used to. I will try to update on a semi-regular basis, but I just don't have as much writing time as I used to.**

That beings said, I will do my best! Anyway, this chapters quote is from Rachel Hartman's Tess of the Road, and no, that's not where our Tessa got her name haha. This was just a nice coincidence. Thank you to all who reviewed my last chapter, y'all are precious, precious people, and I'm so pleased you like it! To all who favorited the story, or just followed, also thank you!

Let me know what you guys think, comments and constructive criticism keep me going.

Hermes out~!

* * *

 _"The road was possibility, the kind she'd thought her life would never hold again, and Tess herself was motion. Motion had no past, only future. Any direction you walked was forward, and that was as must be."_

― Rachel Hartman, Tess of the Road 

As long as she lived, Tessa was never, _ever_ going to admit she had no clue what was going on. At least, not to Faraday. She eyed the cards in her hand and struggled to remember what type of hand she had. Two jacks, a queen, a two, a four. They weren't _good_ cards, of that she was (nearly) certain. Her brows furrowed and her gaze flickered up over the cards only to catch Faraday wink at her. _Why did I agree to this?_

"I fold." she declared, just to be contrary, and set her cards down on the blankets. She didn't throw them, which was an improvement on the first two games.

A smile lurked at the corner of Faraday's mouth as he lifted up the edge of her cards and it widened into a full fledged grin when he saw her hand. He showed her his own. She studied them blankly and then it clicked. Her eyes narrowed and she knew her nostrils were flaring fiercely as she snatched up her cards and threw them at him. He didn't even have a single pair! If she'd called his bluff she would have won. Faraday just snickered and some of her outrage evaporated. At least he was acting more like himself.

"Tell me the suits again?" she commanded stubbornly, folding her arms.

"Hands," Faraday corrected absently as he easily gathered and shuffled his deck. "Woman if I lose a single card-"

"You'll still be stuck in that bed." Tessa snarked. She offered him the queen of clubs.

" _Rude_." He reshuffled the deck, cards dancing between his hands with enviable ease. The bullets and the explosion hadn't hampered his dexterity at least.

"First you've got your Royal flush, all from the same suit, from 10 to an ace. You follow?"

Tessa nodded, fixing his words in her mind. He went on, still absentmindedly shuffling the deck in his hands. "A straight flush is just five cards in order, like one-two-three-four-five, and they're from the same suit too. Four of a kind-"

"Is four of the same cards in a hand." Tessa finished. "I remember." He smiled crookedly.

"Well what's a flush then smart aleck?"

"..." Tessa racked her brain for the correct sequence of cards but kept coming up blank. Faraday's smile took on a smug edge.

"That's what I thought."

"Oh hush." she muttered grumpily and sat back in her chair. He looked like he was trying hard not to laugh, and quickly explained the other hands and dealt out the cards.

"Okay I'll go easy on ya this time."

A knock on the doorframe drew their attention before Tessa could contest his statement. (Not that he needed to cheat, she was bad at poker.) Faraday gave a lazy smile that didn't quite hide his genuine pleasure at seeing Sam Chisolm lurking in the doorway. Tessa's eyebrows shot up of their own accord and she offered him a smile, studying him all the while. Dustier than when he'd left, thinner maybe, but lacking that rigid tension that had been clawing at him. She was only a little surprised to be so happy to see him. Some part of her that had been clamouring at the back of her mind settled, seeing him safe and whole.

"Well if it isn't the mysterious Mr. Chisolm, hero of Rose Creek." Faraday drawled, and shot her a twinkling look.

"Returned safely after a successful bounty, the townsfolk shall rejoice to see him," Tessa pronounced theatrically, and was rewarded with the older man ducking his head in a way that made her think he was blushing. Faraday sniggered.

"Join us for a hand Sam? I'm teaching Tessa here how to play." He leaned forward as much as the bullet wounds in his torso would allow to whisper conspiratorially. "You won't meet a finer mark, she's terrible."

Tessa rolled her eyes and flicked the side of his head (the only part of him without a serious injury, ironically) in silent reprimand. "Ow! I am an injured man, woman!"

"Actually," Sam cut them off before they could really get into things, amusement coloring his tone. "I was wondering if I could speak to Tessa."

"Certainly." She was careful to keep any trepidation out of her tone as she stood and brushed off her borrowed skirt. (Blue. Not her favorite color.) It was disconcerting, just how young Sam Chisolm could make her feel just by saying such a thing. Her thigh gave a sharp pang of pain, making no bones about her having overdone it today, and she gestured to the door. "I'll come visit tomorrow Faraday. Goodnight."

"Did I hear my name?" Said man's voice drifted through the wall.

"No, go to sleep you nosy Cajun!" Faraday banged a fist against the wall and winced. Tessa shot Sam an exasperated glance, and Sam just shook his head. Passing by Goodnight and Billy's room saw them arguing with Faraday through the wall, a more and more common occurrence as they healed. Sam led the way downstairs, into the bustle of the saloon and they ducked around the bar to the quieter area that was the restaurant. Tessa couldn't contain a slight grin, seeing the stretch of canvas they'd put over the hole that Sam had made. Someone, no doubt Vas, would get to it eventually, but at the moment it was no ones priority.

"You eaten dinner yet?" He tipped his head to a table near the canvas, with a respectable four chairs. The sight struck her with a sharp moments sadness but she pushed it aside.

"No. And I'm sure the McClay's won't miss me." She pulled out her own chair, and her expression dared him to try being polite. Sam's eyes crinkled like he wanted to smile and he sat himself.

"They haven't kicked you out yet?" Tessa glanced up at him sharply and relaxed when she realized he was kidding.

"I'll have you know, I kicked myself out that fine establishment." she retorted loftily.

"Welcome back Mr. Chisolm." Etta Macom, new owner, came to their table herself, arms akimbo on her generous hips. "And Miss Newell, glad to see you up and about."

It was her standard greeting and Tessa just smiled. "What'll it be? We've got a beef stew on the stove and a good bit of venison, some nice potatoes and greens."

"Stew, please, a fifth of whiskey." Sam ordered politely, and put a handful of coins on the tablecloth that Etta just as politely ignored.

"Stew as well, and milk if you've got any." Tessa requested. Etta didn't bother writing their orders down and swayed to the kitchen. "I usually sneak money into her apron."

Sam snorted like the sound caught him off guard and smothered a smile into his palm. "Pretty sure if I tried that Mrs. Macom would take offense."

"I don't know." Tessa paused and thanked Etta for the milk, and once she'd walked off continued. "I think you could get away with pretty much anything, as the hero of Rose Creek-"

"Stop it." Sam said pointedly and took a sip of his whiskey.

Sam had taken to his fame about as well as a porcupine took to cuddling, that is, both gracelessly and with a hilarious degree of discomfort. Tessa snickered into her milk and Etta brought their meals out. There was a bustle of napkins and spoons and she breathed in the good smell of it. Etta was a _much_ better cook than whoever Gavin David had had working in the restaurant. She let Sam get settled and ate a bit of her own meal.

"So how was hunting?"

He paused over a spoonful of stew and narrowed his eyes a bit. But he did answer. "Caught him three towns over."

"You were gone for a month." Tessa pointed out, but didn't ask. He'd left as soon as their wounded (and when did she start thinking of them in the possessive?) woke up, to pursue a bounty. Privately, she suspected he needed some time to himself. But some part of her had wondered if he would come back.

"Red is still gone." he answered, not lifting his eyes from his meal.

Tessa rolled her eyes. "That isn't the point. And I think we both know he'll be back." She took a bite of stew to gather her thoughts. She wavered a moment and bit the bullet. "Are you alright now?"

The question came out softer than she intended, nearly lost in the conversations flowing around their table and the clatter of silverware, but Sam heard. He usually did. Eyes so dark as to be black lifted from his meal and met hers squarely. They softened unexpectedly and he almost smiled. "I don't reckon alright is on the table Miss Newell, but I'm here."

Hearing her own words echoed back from that night was bittersweet, but a rush of affection pushed the emotion aside and Tessa shook her head. "That's enough sometimes."

"I believe so yes."

They finished their stew in silence, which she was grateful for, but he made no move to go when Etta cleared their bowls. "I hear you beat Goody with a pillow."

Tessa nearly spat out her milk. "Well! He was being foolish." she protested, coughing.

Sam actually _smiled_. "I don't disagree. I hear Billy wasn't too happy about it though."

"When did you even have time to ask them?" Tessa scowled, unmoved by his uncharacteristically cheerful expression.

"Vasquez told me." His downed the last of his whiskey. "He says you got Goodnight to eat."

She lifted one shoulder awkwardly. "I think he would have eventually. I just...expedited the process.

The glance he pinned her with had Tessa fighting not to squirm in her seat. Nearly thirty years old and traversing half the country and along came Sam Chisolm, who made her feel all of five. "Vasquez does talk a lot."

"He says," Chisolm continued idly, as if she hadn't spoken, "that just about everyone is eating better now."

Tessa flicked her eyes up at him sharply, but bit back her reply before it could escape. "Vas talks too _much_."

He _laughed_ , a low husky sound and threw up his hands. "Well I did ask."

One long forefinger tapped against his glass, _tap tap tap_ , slow and methodical and Tessa's eyes narrowed and her head cocked slightly to the side. Chisolm swallowed the last of his whiskey and didn't meet her eyes.

He was stalling.

But why?

Tessa twisted a finger in the rough material of her borrowed skirt thoughtfully, and waited. If he wanted something from her, (and in her heart of hearts, she thought she knew what it was) then he would have to be direct. She kept her face impassive and calmly wiped her mouth, just for something to do. Finally those dark eyes drew slowly up to meet hers.

"Given any thought of what you want to do when you're all healed up?"

The first thought had her mouth opening, lips forming the words before she fully processed the words. She _was_ essentially healed. The doctor was certain she would have a slight limp all her days, the muscle of her thigh torn and warped, but functioning. The bullet wound in her shoulder had mostly struck bone, and her binders had kept it from bleeding too much-that had never been a real issue. Then it hit her what he'd said. Tessa stared at Chisolm, blinked once.

The subject she'd been carefully, diligently avoiding for the past 2 and a half months suddenly demanded her attention. She swallowed sharply and smoothed her skirt out, buying time.

"Some." she hedged.

Chisolm's gaze was a live thing on her skin as she studied the scars on her knuckles. The tan had faded somewhat. She hadn't been as diligent in her practice - _where are my guns?-_ as she could have been…

"You planning to give up bounty hunting?"

Tessa's thoughts swarmed. Bounty hunting was what she was good at. Something she excelled at. But without Nick and Joe, without someone to watch her back, what was the point? More to the point, it would never be the same. Without them, without them-. When her head cleared she carefully smoothed out the fabric she'd been clutching in clenched fists and met his gaze unflinchingly. Her head was pounding with that familiar anger; it was irrational and she held it firmly close. "...I don't know."

He nodded, like that was the answer he had expected and signaled for another drink.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked through tense lips.

If he picked up on her tension, Chisolm didn't show it. He smiled slightly in thanks to Etta for his new drink and returned his full attention to her. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ "Got a business proposition for you, if you'd care to hear it." he said carefully.

The pain struck her firmly under the ribs, followed quickly by a bitterness that forced her to take slow, steady breaths so she wasn't overwhelmed. It wasn't an accident, the working part of her mind pointed out, that he chose those words. Meeting his gaze was a little harder this time, but Tessa forced herself to do it and found Chisolm watching her with a steady, calculating gaze that said yes, he chose those words for a specific reason. Her voice was so low the air between them vibrated with strain.

"Sam." she said very calmly, ignoring how very wrong his first name sounded in her mouth. "I'm going to need you to get to a point. Now."

If nothing else, Sam Chisolm had nerves of steel, or at least a hell of a poker face. He bore her scrutiny evenly and set his glass down, giving her his undivided attention as he propped his elbows up on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Got word of a small gang of bandits a few towns north of Rose Creek. They've been expanding their territory for weeks now. I could use a strategist-"

"How is that _my_ concern?" she demanded in a harsh whisper, matching his posture aggressively. Neither of them noticed the conversations in the restaurant began to ebb. "You know very well that you are just as good a strategist as I am, if not better. You do not need me for that!"

He rubbed at his mouth and tried again. "You've got experience taking down gangs-"

"Don't you _bullsh*t_ me Sam Chisolm." she hissed through bared teeth. By then she was aware of the eyes on their table, but she locked eyes with him. "Tell me what you hope to gain by this."

His eyes flicked around the room, noticing what she already had and he made to stand. "This may not be the best place to discuss this."

"Sit. _Down."_

It came out louder than she'd intended, cracking like a whip in the sudden silence. Etta stood off to their left, a pitcher hanging aloft in a dangerously slackening grip. Very slowly, Chisolm did as she said. Tessa sank back in her chair and watched him with glittering eyes. "Don't you try to manipulate me. I'm as healed as I'm going to be, no I haven't given a lot of thought as to what I'm going to do with the next few years, and I want to know what you want. You could ask Vas. You could ask Red Harvest. You could wait for the others upstairs to heal. You could go and round up an entirely new posse. Why did you ask _me?_ "

 _Why did you ask me like that? Why did you ask me like_ that _like nothing has changed?_

The silence stretched between them and Chisolm finally sagged back in his chair, lines suddenly more prominent in his face. "I want someone I trust at my back." he admitted. "But I didn't want to press you into something you weren't sure about. Or give you any ideas if you weren't ready." She thought she knew what he carefully didn't say: _I want to know where your head is._

Tessa sighed sharply as the anger drained away, try as she might to hold on to it and rubbed at her face in an attempt to clear her head. She thought of the McClay's boardinghouse, where her workload slowly but steadily increased as they came to rely on her more, where Mrs. McClay kindly altered her daughters old skirts so she could wear them. The dark blue fabric of her skirt scratched against her legs and across the numb patch of scar on her thigh. Tessa considered the town and how easy it was to fall into it's rhythms. If she wanted to, really and truly, she could stay in Rose Creek, bring flowers to her brothers graves. Build a life.

Then the thought came (guiltily, shyly) of lingering at their graves for something other than mourning. Watching the grass ripple on the valley floor, past the mass graves and the ridgeline, and wanting, suddenly, desperately, to saddle Scratch and _go_. Just go, even though her little brothers were dead and buried. Unbidden she thought of another, sad little grave, one with no cross and preacher and she shot to her feet and managed to choke out:

"I will let you know."

She felt the weight of the rooms eyes on her back and set her shoulders.

The sun beat down on her shoulders as soon as she walked outdoors and she knew she'd get a scolding from Mrs. McClay for not wearing a bonnet or some such thing. It dawned on her, as her feet picked their way to the stables without conscious decision, that she'd been drifting in something of a daze for the past two months. Carefully not making a decision, not putting up a fuss as Mrs. McClay dressed her like a doll and made noises about taking her on permanently. A word or two at first, but lately she had been more than hinting about it. The thought of staying at the boarding house and losing the open sky closed around her throat like a fist.

She walked up to Scratch, and he kicked the door of his stall, anxious to be let out, to _go._ Tessa stroked down his nose and he flung his head up, not having it. She let him out every day, put him in the corral so he could stretch his legs. For the first time since the battle, she really looked at him. Rings of white flashed around his eyes and told her in no uncertain terms, that he was upset. She hadn't ridden him in _months_ , and no one else was brave enough.

"Hey ho little brother." she whispered. "I'm so sorry. Hold on."

Her saddle was right where she'd left it, and it was heavier than she remembered - _I've gotten soft-_. Tessa hefted it onto his back, and he settled down almost immediately. He didn't fight the bit when she slid it into his mouth, and he let himself be led outside the stable without much fuss. It was the end of the day, so people were eating dinner. Except there was Mrs. McClay, concern pinching her face, and it quickly morphed into a scold.

"Tessa Newell! What do you think you are doing?"

It was an easy decision to firmly set her left foot into the stirrup and mount up. Her right thigh twinged sharply at the move, and the skirt was too narrow to allow her to fling her leg over, so she hooked her knee over the saddle horn and firmly gathered the reins up. Mrs. McClay hadn't stopped talking and her voice had risen enough to draw curious eyes to their little scene in the street. Tessa breathed deep and Scratch didn't, well, prance in place, but it was a close thing. He wanted to go, and suddenly, that was all Tessa wanted too.

"I'll be back before dark." she raised her voice slightly, ignoring Mrs. McClay's protestations and wheeled her mule around. He wanted to run, his muscles bunched under her but Tessa held him firm and eased him into a trot. They hadn't practiced side saddle much, but she was confident he wouldn't spill her. In spite of everything, a quiet thrill sang through her and she let him start to canter when they reached the edge of the town. Heart pounding, they came to the ridge line and the road stretched before them to the west, a ribbon of white in the rolling grass, and swallowed up by the horizon. Tessa gave him his head and Scratch's powerful muscles, even after weeks of soft living, coiled and sprang into the gallop. For one breathless, endless moment she left her grief behind.

The wind whipped her hair back and Tessa was distantly aware she was laughing, hard, like a mad man. It didn't matter. She knew her decision, had known it in the stable. This? This she couldn't give up. She wouldn't. Where she might go without Nick and Joe didn't matter. Living a half life without them was worse than living a full one without them. Scratch began to tire and she slowly drew him to a canter, a trot, then a walk. His sides heaved like a bellows as they both cooled down, but Tessa thought he was pleased.

As it always did, the grief caught up to her. Tears filled her eyes and she didn't bother to push them back.

"I can't do this."

She missed them like a limb and Scratch puffed to a stop before she absently prodded him on. He was too hot to stop walking. Tessa addressed his long ragged ears blindly:

"I can't do this without them. I can't. But I can't stay here. I can't just stop. I can't go and marry someone I don't love, I can't just _settle…_ " Shame flooded her cheeks and pulled her head down towards her chest. The words found their way out in time and they weren't for Scratch. "I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss you, and I miss Mama, and I can't- I can't go out and be what I was-do what I did-" Tessa let herself sag forward over her leg, burying her face in the scratchy material of her borrowed skirt. Sobs choked her, made her words incomprehensible to anyone but her, culminating in the shameful truth that she'd been carefully avoiding for months. "I don't want to stay here! I don't want to live and die in Rose Creek! But they _died_ for it, and how can I-"

Somewhere in the midst of her tears Scratch had stopped and was pulling up grass by the bushel and Tessa stumbled from his back, and curled up, rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she managed, and it came out like a scream. "I'm sorry I did this, I'm sorry I can't stay!" Tessa wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked. "I can't stay."

Shadows started to lengthen and the sky burst with color. Tessa eased off her scarred thigh and wiped at her face. Her eyes were gritty but she could breathe again. There was a part of her, the part of her still rational and whole (as whole as any piece of her could be anyway) that quietly piped up in the aftermath of her fury. Nick and Joe knew her better than anyone. Out of all the things they expected of her, settling down probably wasn't one of them. Tessa wiped her nose on her sleeve and sniffled, the sound pitiful even to her own ears.

The thought of giving up the open sky for four walls and a _husband_ (because she _would_ get married off if she stayed, Mrs. McClay and all the old biddies would hound her until she died) who knew nothing of her life, of who she was…. The thought made her skin crawl. Home had been Nick and Joe, not the house they wintered in. There was nothing to stop her going back of course, but….the winters were long and hard. Tessa shuddered. Better to die in the saddle.

 _Better to have died with Nick and Joe_.

Tessa shook her head as if she could physically shake the thought from her mind and resolutely climbed to her feet. Scratch didn't bother raising his head until she forced him away from his delicious meal of prairie grass. As if he wasn't fat from all the oats. Snorting, Tessa levered herself back into the saddle, and turned his head to Rose Creek. She wished briefly that she'd brought a canteen if only to wash her face so no one could tell she'd been crying, but it would be dark by the time she got back. Scratch was displeased, but he went. The return gave her a little more time to think and Tessa tilted her head back, listening to the prairie hiss and seethe as the wind blew.

Of all the choices before her, (which really boiled down to those three) getting back on the road was the only one that didn't make her want to scream. Going with Chisolm though...That hadn't even occurred to her. But, she reflected, it was better than nothing. Better than being alone, even though they would doubtless run into some trouble, being respectively a black man, and a woman. No doubt he had thought of that.

The red in the sky bled into purple and steadily into a beautiful blue that made her breath hitch. No, no she couldn't give this up. Tessa urged the mule into a faster pace and soon they were cantering back. The moon hadn't risen but she could see the pale dirt of the road clearly in the waning light. True dark fell as she reached the ridge line above town. They passed the sad little crosses, hung scraps of red and a pinwheel she knew was spinning even if she couldn't see it.

The woman both was and wasn't surprised to find a lantern burning on the porch of the Elysium, and Sam Chisolm sitting there waiting for her. She dismounted, legs screaming after months out of the saddle, and let Scratch's reins dangle. He leaned forward as if to say something but Tessa cut him off.

"This job you want to do? Requires at least three people."


	17. What Choice Have We?

Hi guys~! Hermes here. Thank you so much to those who liked and followed my story, here's a new chapter for you! Thanks also to those who commented on chapter 16, as always it made my day. :) Most importantly, thank you to my enthusiastic and fantastic beta reader, _**TheWorldInaDay**_ , you have been the proverbial wind beneath my wings when it came down to getting this chapter off the ground (and subsequently getting the story restarted after my inadvertent hiatus) and I couldn't have done it without you. So here we are!

I didn't intend for this to happen, but both Tessa and Vas have a way with words, in that, specifically, they use the wrong ones at the wrong times. Bless their bonny bones.

So, that being said, on with the show! Please comment and review as you like, I always love getting your feedback!

Sincerely, Hermes.

PS, I'll try to have chapter 18 a little more promptly. Unfortunately, I work really long hours at this time. Gotta pay them bills y'all.

* * *

 _"There's always, always a choice. My options might really, truly suck, but that doesn't mean there isn't a choice."_

― **Jim Butcher** , **Cold Days**

Her leg ached fiercely. They both did really. Riding hard after several months of walking had not been her brightest idea, but Tessa couldn't bring herself to regret it. After briefly conversing with Chisolm, she stabled Scratch and brushed him down quickly. For his part, the mule ate like he'd been denied such fodder for years, and not mere hours. Tessa snorted. He was a genuinely ridiculous animal, even at the best of times. The stables were quiet and flush with heavy breathing from it's occupants, and none of them so much as twitched as she walked out.

It wasn't late, but the streets were quiet and still. Occasional bursts of noise came from the Elysium; she would have company if that was where she decided to go. But Tessa turned to the McClay's. They were owed an explanation, and once she and Chisolm put their heads together, she knew she would easily be able to let herself put it off until it was the day of, and she could ride off without a qualm. They didn't deserve that. Tessa climbed the steps, purposefully treading hard on the creaking board just in front of the door so the building's occupants would have some warning.

The light in the kitchen didn't so much as flicker, and there were no other sounds as she stepped inside.

Mrs. Martha McClay was a force of nature. Tessa found herself respecting the woman for her alacrity and no nonsense attitude. She was ruler of her boarding house, and Willis McClay just seemed to hold on for the ride. She was sitting at her kitchen table, mouth pursed and furiously sewing something in the light of a kerosene lamp. The smell made her shudder, but Tessa forced herself to walk further in. She didn't speak; Mrs. McClay knew she was there. The fury in the lines of her shoulders and furrowed brow kept her from speaking. On the table, in the place that had become _her_ place, somehow, there was a plate covered by a clean cloth. All at once, shame choked her. She carefully sat down and started to eat.

Tessa was halfway through her small meal and feeling lower than low, when the older woman finally spoke. She jabbed the needle in and out of the shapeless bundle of cloth fiercely, and didn't look up. "I could just kill that Sam Chisolm."

Her throat worked furiously around a lump of cold potatoes and she swallowed painfully before Tessa could manage a choked "Oh?" Not that Mrs. McClay needed any further encouragement.

"That man! Getting you into trouble again! Who _knows_ what sort of trouble you could get up to out there, without your brothers, all on your own…" The other sniffed sharply and brought Tessa to the jarring realization that iron-willed Marth McClay wasn't just angry, she was genuinely _upset._

If she'd felt bad before, there were not words for what she felt then. It dawned on her, slow and sure, that she'd come to care about the old, tough couple. She looked down at her plate and the effort of finishing it seemed too much. With a watery sigh she would not admit to, Tessa slid it to the side and hesitated briefly before reaching across and touching the work rough hand. Mrs. McClay allowed the contact before huffing and brushing her off to keep working.

"I knew you'd leave." she said abruptly into the bristling silence. "I think I always knew it. Of course, I hoped…"

"I'm sorry." Tessa said softly.

"Not sorry enough to stay." For the first time since she'd walked in the door sharp blue eyes met grey. Tessa was the first to look away. No, not sorry enough to stay. Mrs. McClay went on, ruthless. "Don't think I don't understand girl, because I do. Every young woman dreams of...being what you _are_ , at one time or another."

"A hellion?" Tessa scoffed weakly.

"Her own person." The words struck her into silence and Tessa studied the other carefully. "Don't misunderstand me girl, I don't strictly speaking, approve of this lifestyle of yours. It's dangerous, and it makes you look like a woman of ill repute. But I understand it. Most girls dream of riding off into the sunset and being their own hero. Of course," she straightened the bundle in her hands to get at a seam better. "They usually grow out of it."

Tessa blinked, lifted out of her ill mood. "I...don't understand."

"I am _saying_ ," Mrs. McClay flung the cloth out in a quick, jerking motion and it finally took shape. "That I don't want you to go. I've grown quite fond of you and you are not a terrible guest in my house-you could have a place here, if you wanted it. But I don't think you do."

Stunned by what she saw, Tessa met the other's gaze helplessly. Martha McClay leaned across the table and pressed a hand firmly over her heart. "You could be happy here, if you let yourself. But whatever caused you to run west in the first place has still got you running scared girl. Until you face that, you are always going to run."

She had cried so much that day, but more tears tried to fall. Tessa refused to let them. She wasn't right, not completely, but the words struck closer to home than she liked, and the old pain was closer to the surface than it had been in years. Instead she went on impulse and walked around the table, into the other's startled embrace. There was only a moment before those strong arms closed around her, and in spite of her best efforts a tear did escape.

"Thank you for the pants." she whispered into Mrs. McClay's shoulder.

The older woman ended the embrace before Tessa did and held her at arm's length eyeing her critically up and down. "Don't thank me yet," she sniffed, seemingly over her bout of emotion. "Let's see how they fit first."

Tessa fussed with her saddlebags and knew she was stalling. Nearly a week after Chisolm had first asked her to go with him, they were finally ready to go. Red Harvest had shown up sometime in the night of their fourth day of preparation, and the shopkeepers had been generous in their supplies. Vasquez had agreed to go, though why, she couldn't quite understand. Faraday and Goodnight had offered their own advice ( and called her no small amount of names for going and putting herself in danger _again_ ). Billy merely told her not to die.

Tessa shook her head to clear it and tightened the strap tying down her bedroll. It didn't need it and Scratch craned his long neck around as if to ask her what was taking so long. A slight scuff in the dirt behind her pulled her attention and she turned and looked up at Vas, already firm in the saddle. His paint whuffled and tossed her head. The Mexican looked solemn in the early morning light and he chewed absentmindedly on the remains of his cigar.

"Are you ready?"

"Always." with a brief grin she planted her foot in the stirrup and swung herself up onto Scratch's tall back.

"You said your goodbyes?" Vas nodded to the McClay's boarding house as she guided the mules head around. The building was still and quiet.

"I did. But you make it sound like we're going off to war." Tessa scoffed as he mounted his own paint.

"Aren't we?" he said darkly. Their mounts fell into step and Tessa shot him a quizzical look even as she tightened her grip on the reins before Scratch could get any ideas.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

He threw the remains of his soggy cigar into the street and spat over his horses shoulder. "Are you so desperate to fight chiquita, that you would leave behind people who care about you?"

Tessa suppressed a flash of irritation. "I don't see that you have any right to talk Vas. You're riding out with us."

The look he gave her was nothing short of contemptuous and for a long moment there was a stranger in front of her. She'd forgotten somewhere in the midst of all the things they'd been through that Vas was a dangerous man. "I have no choice."

He clicked to his paint and the horse picked up it's pace, quickly leaving her behind as he went to wait beside Chisolm. Scratch, not to be left behind, stepped up his pace and not a moment later Red Harvest joined them. She couldn't bring herself to look at Vas. Some mutual understanding passed between the three men and they started out. Tessa swallowed sharply and stared at the tight line of Vas's shoulders. There was no good reason for her to be feeling the way she was, wrong footed and-and _off_. But she couldn't get his face out of her mind.

* * *

By the end of the day, Tessa felt like one big bruise. Two and a half months out of the saddle had seen a clear loss of muscle mass-yet another tally against them. Only her not-inconsiderable pride kept her from making a sound when they dismounted at the end of the day. Scratch, for once, did her the courtesy of being still when she stepped down and the pain lancing up from her hips and thighs forced her to pause. She exhaled sharply through her nose and considered the steps she would to take to get his saddle down and curry him.

He could do without for one night, surely?

"Are you alright?"

The grudging question jerked her from her musings and Tessa turned stiffly (if she didn't bend her legs, it hurt that much less) to face Vas. Or was it Vasquez now? The man had been in a foul mood all day and Tessa had given him a wide berth as they'd ridden. They had paused long enough to water the horses and wolf down a bit of jerky, and her brief attempts at conversation had fallen flat, and that was that. Vas had walked off from them as they'd stretched their legs muttering darkly under his breath in Spanish.

He hadn't so much as looked at her all day.

But he was looking at her _now_ , even though for all the world he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. The woman was at a loss. _Months_ of tentative friendship, and suddenly she was a pariah. Until she wasn't. A body could get whiplash-

He quirked an eyebrow, waiting.

Tessa's mouth snapped shut with a soft click and she nodded, bending (still stiffly) to loosen the saddle girth. She took a deep breath to fortify herself against the coming pain and reached up to pull the saddle from the impatient mules back, when large capable hands brushed her aside and lifted it over her head. Dodging a stray strap Tessa swung around as quickly as her protesting muscles (even her _back_ ached) allowed. Vas hefted the saddle in his arms, face utterly expressionless, and deposited it with a thump, bedroll and all, by the beginnings of a fire pit. Chisolm glanced up and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

The Mexican stalked off before she could even begin to thank him, tension in the high line of his shoulders. Mouth working soundlessly Tessa looked back when she felt eyes on her. Chisolm was watching her, perfectly expressionless.

"What?" Tessa snapped, defensive for no reason she could name.

"Whatever's going on between you two, I'm going to need you to fix it." Chisolm dead panned.

"Nothing- _I_ didn't-" Tessa sputtered, ears burning but he held up his hands as he placed the last of the ring of stones for the fire.

"I _don't_ need to know." was all he said. "But it's you that's got him all in a twist, not me, so you'd best fix it."

"But-but-"

"I have enough to worry about." Chisolm nodded once, like that settled the matter, and walked off, perhaps in search of Red Harvest, and leaving Tessa alone with the animals.

"But I don't know what I _did_." she muttered.

Scratch took her distraction as the perfect opening to plant his nose in the small of her back and shove her jarringly to her knees. When she managed to get herself back into rights, Tessa turned and glared at the beast, who flipped his ponderously large ears forward curiously. "You are not _helping_."

The mule whuffed a gust of breath her way and bent back to inspect the ground for more fodder, having decided his human was just too strange to deal with.

* * *

By the time Tessa had gotten Scratch and the other mounts (she _was not_ stalling) curried and safely picketed Red Harvest had returned with a rabbit and was busily skinning it. She hadn't known he'd arrived, only that when she'd turned from brushing down his leggy gray he'd been there, clutching the poor thumper by the ears and watching her with a considering look. In spite of herself, she'd nearly jumped right out of her skin. The barest hint of a smirk tipped up the corner of his mouth but he'd given her a nod and bent to his work.

Chisolm himself had also returned and left again, depositing a load of kindling, and giving her a look that managed to be both exasperated and pointed all at once. It reminded her painfully of Nick; Tessa also wanted to throw something at the older man. Hands on her hips she watched the man go and reminded herself she was an _adult,_ and throwing something at him would help no one. He also _might_ have had a point. She couldn't afford to be distracted when they went in, and neither could Vas.

Decided, she addressed a careful question to Red Harvest. They hadn't interacted that much, but she vaguely recalled him there at her bedside, tending her leg and shoulder (under the watchful eye of Emma Cullen), and wasn't quite sure where she stood with him. He glanced up at her and jerked his chin in the direction she needed, an dropped his eyes back to his work without waiting for her response.

"Thank you." she replied politely.

Even with the vague directions she'd been giving Tessa managed to find Vas in record time. The lanky man was skulking around a knotty tree by the creek, angrily puffing away at one of his cigars. At least she assumed it was angrily, given how fast the puffs of smoke were coming. Up until that moment she'd never seen Vas do anything but indulge with a cigar. Suddenly nervous, Tessa swallowed and purposefully scuffed a boot on the ground so he wouldn't be startled. It was, she considered, a mistake, given that he was an outlaw and jumpy as all get out.

Vas loosed a string of (presumably) swear words in Spanish and rounded on her with a glare, the poor cigar clutched tight between two fingers. "What?" he snapped.

More than a little taken aback, Tessa scrambled for the words she'd rehearsed and came up empty. "I-"

"Can't a man get a minute to himself?" Vas cut her off, uttering what was definitely an oath. He turned his back on her, waving her away. "Go. I will go back when I am ready."

"If you'd stop sulking like a child for a moment I would like to apologize. I'm not sure for what but I've apparently done _something_ to set you off." The words were out of her mouth before she thought better of them, and her fists clenched by her sides as Vas stiffened and slowly turned to face her.

"¿Qué acabas de decirme, mujer?"

"You know I don't understand you," Tessa shot back annoyed and on familiar ground. Anger, she could deal with.

The outlaw paced forward a few steps with a slow prowling gait that had her hackles raising. His eyes glinted. "What did you say to me woman?"

Tessa sneered. "You heard me. Instead of sulking like a child you could just tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it."

"Oh you will, will you?" Vasquez scoffed, and flung his cigar to the ground, absently grinding it out.

"I don't deal with passive aggressive people," Tessa cut him off before he could get any farther. "If you have a problem with me, with something I did -and believe me I'm struggling to understand what I did!-then you talk to me! You don't storm off in the trees like-"

"Call me a child again chiquita," he said with deadly calm, and stepped into her space.

"Don't you threaten me, not when it's true!" she hissed between clenched teeth, and gave no ground.

As close as they were she watched Vas's nostrils flare in his ire with detached interest. If he tried to swing at her, she could easily duck out of his reach. She sensed more than saw his hands curl into fists at his sides and shifted her weight onto her left foot. Just in case. Just as suddenly, the tension dispersed. He still looked plenty angry but less inclined to take her head off.

"Did it ever occur to you to leave well enough alone?"

Tessa mouthed soundlessly at the air for a moment, thrown by his sudden change in demeanor but managed to gather herself enough to protest. "Chisolm insisted this was my fault and…" A blush rose in her cheeks, and his unimpressed look prompted her to go on. "...and that I come fix it."

Vas stared at her, unreadable even to her eye and waved her off. "There is nothing to fix. Go back to camp."

Such a firm dismissal would ordinarily be enough to send her packing. Tessa wasn't one to keep bothering a person when they clearly wanted to be left alone. But she persisted. Just this once. Before he could get back to his brooding (he already had another cigar in hand) Tessa wrapped a hand around his arm. Well, wrapped was a mite strong. She got as good a grip as she could on the smooth muscle above his elbow, heat bleeding through the rolled up fabric and pulled him to an insistent stop.

The contact drew the other up short and he stared at her hand, then at her face. Tessa quickly took her hand back and folded her arms, raising her chin in challenge. "What did you mean when you said you had no choice? This morning I mean."

He huffed softly and struck the match he was holding against the rough surface of his gun belt. "You're smarter than that chiquita."

"But everyone loves you in Rose Creek," Tessa threw up her hands, puzzled. "You could have stayed."

Brown eyes met gray and he shook his head disbelievingly. "Maybe not as smart as I thought-"

"Now just one second-!"

"-I will tell you then." Vas went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I am an _outlaw_. There are still men hunting me."

It wasn't like Tessa had forgotten. She blinked, and cautiously pointed out: "They wouldn't turn you in."

"I know." For a moment he softened. She blinked again, and it was gone. "I do not want to put them in danger."

Tessa blinked, lips parting slightly in surprise. Slowly she nodded and wracked her brain. "That...makes sense. But what did I do that made your day worse?" Try as she might she couldn't keep the hurt from her voice and Tessa bit at her lip in self-reprimand. That had no place here.

Vas looked at the darkening sky and shook his head slowly, before he looked at her. "You left." he said simply. "And you didn't have to."

The blood surged in her temples as she went to fire something (she didn't know what) back, but he touched her shoulder. Just a bare brush of fingertips on fabric, and confusing enough to derail her before she could say something truly awful. "You had the choice, you still do, and you chose to go out and pick another fight. _That_ is why I am angry."

Tessa sucked in a shuddering breath, scrabbling for control, and fixed a burning gaze on him. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her fingertips. "Let us get one thing settled, if nothing else. You know _nothing_ about me, about the choices I make- absolutely _nothing_ , and you do not get to be angry at me for _my decisions_ , when they do not affect you. My reasons for not settling in the town my brothers _died_ in, are my own, and I will be damned before I let you tell me that I made the wrong one. You are not my father, my husband, or my brother, and you have _no right_ to-"

She cut herself off abruptly and spun on her heel. She didn't even feel her aches and pains in that moment. "Forget it. You stay out here as long as you like. I'm hungry."

The walk back to camp was fraught with shadows and Tessa almost tripped a time or two, which only made her angrier. She knew, somewhere inside, that she was being irrational. It didn't matter. How _dare_ he?! How dare he spend the _entire_ day treating her like a pariah just because she didn't settle down and become someone's "goodwife"? How dare he act as if he had _any_ right to make comments on her life choices! When it came down to it, Vasquez was little more than an acquaintance and, to date, not a pleasant one. She had thought of him as a friend but-

Two sets of eyes were immediately drawn to her as she burst back into camp, but all Tessa had to do to forestall any stupid questions was turn a blazing look on Chisolm, and the man wisely went back to whatever he was doing. Her teeth creaked where she clenched them and Tessa forced herself to relax as she snatched up Scratch's brush and comb. She was too wired to do anything that involved sitting; the mule certainly didn't complain about getting two rub downs in one evening.

Some time later, when her breathing had calmed and the strokes of her hands slowed, Tessa was aware of Vasquez joining the circle around the fire. Lips pursed, she refused to turn. Let him see how _he_ enjoyed getting the cold shoulder. When she had regained some control, Tessa left off her work and went to sit down herself. Chisolm wordlessly passed her a bit of rabbit and declined to comment about how both she and Vasquez refused to look a one another. She tore off a strip of flesh and smiled to herself. Chisolm, at least, knew when to back down.


	18. Vasquez- An Interlude

**Hello good people! Sorry for the long time between updates. They may not come as frequently now. If this chapter seems a little disjointed, I apologize, I'm having to get back into the swing of things and it certainly isn't easy! That being said, I hope it's coherent and will tide you over until the next one! Thanks to all my readers and reviewers, and the people who've favorited this story, you are all so sweet!**

* * *

"He is clever and cunning and careful.

He knows how to listen. And he has a kind of magic."

― Terry Pratchett, The Shepherd's Crown

Chapter 18

The night was so thick and hot Vasquez thought he might drown in it. It had been hot and all day, but at least the wind had been blowing. As soon as night had fully fallen, every breeze was gone. Even the act of reclining by the fire, (as far away as he could safely manage) was enough to soak his shirt with sweat. Even Sam had loosened a button or two, while Red Harvest seemed not to notice, sleeping lightly by the fire without trouble, one hand curled loosely around his large knife. He knew the younger man could snap to in a moments notice, however, because every time Tessa stirred, the other did as well. Eventually, REd Harvest seemed to settle, either so tired that her tossing and turning no longer registered, or he had adjusted to her sounds and tuned them out. Vasquez wearily suspected the latter.

Of the three of his companions, Tessa was the only one who seemed as miserable as he did. Whether it was her sore muscles (he hadn't missed that her walking stiffly), or the heat, she tossed and turned something fierce. At some point in the night she'd given up her vest, and treated Vasquez to the sight of the homespun cotton of her shirt clinging closely to her back and the curve of her waist, before she'd snapped it away from her in a vain attempt to cool down. He'd heard her gasp out like the very act of breathing was a chore and then she'd settled back down, flat on her back and palms up as if in supplication.

He couldn't blame her. He'd stripped his own vest not too long after she had and finally settled into some sort of restless, half asleep state. The night's earlier argument went round and round in his head, but he didn't have the energy to be upset about it anymore. Not truly. Mujer obstinada, he mused, stinging from her words even still. Couldn't see what was good for her if it bit her on the nose. He'd thought for while there that she'd take a swing at him but, this time at least, she'd restrained herself. The amusement that bubbled dimly up in the wake of that thought was followed quickly by a renewed irritation and the barest brush an idea that maybe he'd overstepped. But, Vasquez thought-one of his last- someone had needed to say it. If no one else would, why not him? A distant, restless whimper filtered through his stupor, before all thoughts slid abruptly into dreams. Or memories, he couldn't tell.

 _When he saw her ride out of Rose Creek, Vasquez genuinely thought she'd never come back. He'd come out of the ruins of the church, mopping the sweat off his face,_ _to see her clinging to her mules back, a blur of blue and white and gray, as she'd cantered and then galloped right out of town and out of sight. It wasn't a surprise really, but it sent a pang of fear through him all the same. Fear for her, and, strangely, for himself. Tessa hadn't so much as looked at gun since her brothers had died, he was willing to bet she didn't have one on her now. It took a lot of strength to keep from going after her, to make sure she was alright. All he knew was that it took him a long time to stop watching the horizon. His steps, when he finally made himself move again, were slow, and they turned to the Elysium, where no doubt Sam would be._

 _Dusk was just beginning to fall. Vasquez leaned on a support beam and was a little mollified to find Sam watchin the road out of town too. "What did you say to her?"_

 _The other turned his dark gaze away from the horizon and studied Vasquez briefly. "I asked her to come with us."_

 _The anger that surged through him caught Vasquez fully off guard and he stepped towards Sam, teeth bared and hands curled into fists. "Eres un hijo de puta! How could you do that? She cannot come with us, it is too dangerous!"_

 _Sam was up and on his feet with a smooth, deadly grace and though he didn't reach for a gun, the threat of doing so hung between them, enough to draw Vasquez up sharply. He was aware, through the haze of his rage, that he was breathing harshly, and the saloon had become very quiet. When he spoke, Sam spoke in that measured way he had the night before the fight. "It's her choice Vasquez. Tessa gets to decide her future."_

 _His hands were balled tight at his sides. Vasquez sneered. "Don't give me that cabron. If you hadn't said anything-"_

 _"She still would have left. But she would have left by herself and run headlong into trouble." Sam said firmly. "Do you really think she would have stayed here?"_

 _Vasquez bared his teeth at the other. "Si! Hombre egoísta, she could have!"_

 _The look Sam gave him was almost pitying. "If she wanted to stay, she would have. Nothing could have moved her otherwise. And you know that."_

 _He struck a fist against his own leg and stomped off into the darkness, because, God help him, Sam was right. He walked back to the makeshift carpenters shop in the church as the light died around him, and sat in the dark, breathing in the mingled scents of sawdust and soot until most of the anger had died. Vasquest drew a cigar from shirt pocket and absently lit it. The familiar scent settled him further until he could look at the situation without wanting to hit something._

 _Why was he so angry? It was Tessa's choice, Sam was right. So why was he so angry?_

 _There, in the dark, he told himself it was because he'd accidentally saved her life. That sort of thing forged a bond between people. It wasn't because he wanted her to stay there in town, with McClay's, where she was safe, and cared for. It wasn't because he wanted her to stay in town with him._

 _It most certainly was not because he wanted to stay in town himself._

 _It wasn't._

* * *

Next he knew, someone kicked his boot.

Vasquez startled into a sitting position with a snort, gun drawn and up, and found Red Harvest standing over him smirking. Before he could gather his wits the younger man turned on his heel and strode away without making a sound. He passed by a scowling Tessa who packed her bedroll so roughly he thought she'd tear it to shreds. She glanced up once, eyes mirror shard bright and just as quickly looked away. Vasquez growled, yesterday's argument coming right back, and the last of his dream slipped away. Huffing he found his feet, and just as carefully didn't look at her as he rolled his own bedroll (generously donated by the people of Rose Creek) tightly up. When he was finished he rounded to the fire and found Sam Chisolm watching him, face utterly blank. One eyebrow rose slowly as he sipped his coffee. A dull flush crawled up Vasquez's neck and he snorted, gaze skittering away before he thought better of it.

Pointedly ignoring the man who'd gotten them into yet another crazy mess (El tonto cree que lo sabe todo) he poured his own cup and squinted in the early morning light as he helped himself to the food. Tessa had limped over to Scratch and was speaking softly to the evil beast as she saddled him. Every move looked stiff and painful. Sam cleared his throat and Vasquez blinked himself out of his thoughts. After a long moment, the warrant officer cleared his throat again. Meaningfully. Vasquez glared.

"What?"

Sam looked more exasperated than Vasquez had ever seen him, and he straightened where he sat, offended. Vasquez knew, at the back of his mind, that he was playing right into the other man's hands but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"What? No te sientas ahí, habla claro."

Sam rolled his eyes. It was such an uncharacteristic expression Vasquez actually gawked at him for a moment. "It's none of my business-"

"Si." Vasquez agreed firmly. Sam ignored him.

"-but seeing as we're going to be fighting an entire gang of bandits in the next few days, it is my opinion that you two-" he flicked a gesture between the still seated Vasquez and the stiff limbed Tessa, who had her head cocked as if she was listening in. _¿No puede esa mujer ocuparse de sus propios asuntos?,_ he thought caustically. "-should get yourselves straightened out."

"There is nothing going on, nada." Vasquez denied flatly. "Just because she did not like what I had to say does not mean anything is going on between us." He choked on his own words, swearing up and down at himself for the slip. Sam leaned back where he sat, carefully studying the cloudless morning.

"I said nothing about that now."

"Callate!" Vasquez hissed between clenched teeth, and glanced down as Tessa limped up to the fire.

She looked unwell and dropped hard into her chosen place, pale under the wide brim of her hat, lips pursed into a thin nonexistence. Vasquez viciously clamped down on any concern he might have felt and swallowed the last of his breakfast. Tessa Newell had made it quite clear that her wellbeing was none of his business. As he climbed to his feet, brushing the crumbs from his palms, Tessa addressed Sam; totally ignoring Vasquez in the process. His teeth ground together audibly and he forced himself over to Peca. He'd lifted up two feet, to check them over, before he realized someone had brushed her down until she was shining.

The friendly mare butted his shoulder with her nose as Vasquez cast an unwilling glance over his shoulder to where Tessa and Sam were discussing the days plans. Had she…?

An odd, soft crunch from behind his left shoulder had him turning to locate the source. Red Harvest eyed him from over the graceful back of his own horse, munching on...something. The younger man's eyebrows cocked up slightly. "You shouldn't stare. You are fighting."

Vasquez goggled, more at the fact that he was speaking English than at what he'd actually said. Then it caught up to him. He shot another glance at the two by the fire to make sure they hadn't heard. "Horne was right, ladrón de caballos, you _are_ a little shit."

The Comanche made a muffled noise, like he was laughing at him but when Vasquez looked up sharply, Red Harvest's face was as unreadable as ever. Scowling Vasquez hefted his saddle onto Peca's back; they had a long day's ride ahead of them and he used that excuse to keep himself busy until the others were ready to go.

He found himself next to Red Harvest for the first stretch of the day's ride. The warrant officer rode ahead, and Tessa brought up the rear, where Scratch couldn't hurt anyone. (And where he wouldn't have to talk to her). Sam was the one who knew where they were going, and had an idea of where the gang had last been sighted, so there was no need for the Indian to go ahead and scout. The younger man seemed...not upset by this but a little unhappy. Two hours into the day, with the hot morning sun beating down on them (it was promising to be another burning day, but at least the wind had picked up), Vasquez took pity on him. And he might have been a little curious.

"Why did you come?"

The other cut his eyes at him and Vasquez met his gaze squarely. Red Harvest had what his Mama would have called "ojos sabios". Just because the man was quiet didn't mean he did not understand, as they had all learned quickly. He and Ben Truebill had probably saved half the town. And then, as soon as it was clear that everyone who was going to make it was out of the woods, he'd vanished. Vasquez couldn't really blame him. The memory of those first hours after the battle surfaced and had him suppressing a shudder. He had almost run himself.

A mixed flock of birds tearing overhead broke his line of thinking. Both men watched them go. The sight nagged at some memory, but since Red Harvest didn't appear concerned Vasquez shrugged it off. "Why did you?"

The older man affected a casual shrug. "I had no place else to go. This seemed as good a way as any to go." He felt the other's eyes on him and tried to quash the sneaking suspicion that the other knew more than he was telling. Just where, Vasquez wondered, had the Indian been while he and Tessa had been arguing at the creek? He forced the thoughts aside and raised his chin to prompt him to answer. For a long moment he thought it was a waste of effort.

"...The elders of my people said my path was different. My path led me to him." He nodded to Sam Chisolm who rode easy ahead like he didn't have a single worry-but his head was swinging back and forth, slowly, scanning for trouble.

"So where he goes, you go?" Vasquez thought of Billy Rocks and Goodnight. But Red Harvest shook his head.

"I follow my path, where it leads me." he said simply. "For this time, it goes with Sam."

Vasquez nodded slowly. "I see." He didn't. But he almost wished he did. As if on it's own his had reached up to touch his medallion.

They rode in amicable silence, occasionally punctuated by a bird startled into flight or Tessa muttering at her _caballo demonio_. Vasquez fixed his gaze forward firmly, making a show (if only for himself) of scanning the horizon. Red Harvest was either kind enough, or disinterested enough, not to call him on it.

The land was broken up by scrub brush and small bunches of trees, and it was under one of those that Sam called a halt during the hottest part of the day. His face was as placid as ever, but he'd rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. Probably, Vasquez thought, the closest he would ever come to admitting the was uncomfortable. Of the four of them, Red Harvest the _pequeña mierda,_ seemed the least affected. Fanning himself with his hat, Vasquez was hard pressed not to smack him.

Eh. It was too hot to bother.

"We'll rest here for a bit, til the heat lets up." Sam said with only a hint of weariness.

Tessa dismounted, face scrunching briefly in discomfort, but she didn't make a sound. Vasquez shut his eyes and leaned back against a skinny tree. A hot, wind cuffed his face, and brought him no relief. _Mujer obstinada_.

"How long until we reach bandit territory?" she questioned. She sounded a little breathless, but not as tired as he thought she would. Vasquez swore at himself when the thought crossed his mind. He had no business paying so much attention to her!

"-give or take, to where I last saw them." Sam had answered while Vasquez cursed himself. "Then it's just a matter of tracking them down."

She nodded slowly, more to herself than to Sam. "About that. We don't need to be in any great and tearing hurry to find them. Not as long as this heat wave continues."

Sam didn't even look up from where he was unsaddling his mare. "Oh?"

The smile she offered was pale and crooked. "They won't be so keen to move in this heat. Not if they don't have to. We can use that."

Vasquez paused in his fanning, both intrigued and a little annoyed by her self assured tone. "You know this from experience then?"

She flicked a glance, needle sharp, his way but answered, stiffly. "Men who don't have actual work to do won't be willing to do much on days like this. More than likely they'll be holed up somewhere near water and where they can lay low and not be disturbed. Her eyes flicked up and away thoughtfully as she mulled over her own words. She raised her voice slightly. "Do you know of any places like that up ahead?"

Sam, smart man that he was, had dropped his saddle under a thoroughly shady patch and was reclined on it with his hat over his eyes. He seemed to know he was being addressed. "More'n likely. But give it a rest for now. It's too hot to think."

Red Harvest gave a low laugh from where he was seated against the trunk of a tree, which set Vasquez off in spite of himself. Tessa's sniff of disapproval had him nearly doubling over, and she left the three where they lay, clearly irked. It was good to laugh, in spite of things. After a long moment her mule followed ponderously after, and he heard the unmistakable sound of him shoving his rider into what sounded like a tree. He snickered to himself under his hat, unable to help himself. Served the stubborn thing right.


End file.
